Unintended
by AJarOfDirt
Summary: ON INDEFINITE HIATUS. They weren't supposed to be together; not in the social hierarchy of school, not anywhere. But they did it anyway, and discovered love in each other like no other. *CDHG* *AU*
1. Chapter One

"Damn it!" a voice hissed, a book slammed shut and sounds of footsteps clicked through the quiet library. Essentially, nobody was there at all; it was, after all, a perfect Saturday afternoon and anybody who was sociable would either be outdoors, or preparing to go on a trip to Hogsmeade. However, that was not her lifestyle of choice; not one of Hermione Granger's. Instead, she was spending her weekend immersed in her little world of books and knowledge. Merlin forbid she even had fun, it seemed. As she stalked to the nearby shelves once more, the tip of her finger tapping delicately on her chin and her face scrunched up in obvious frustration, a pair of eyes followed her every move. It was highly unusual for this particular pair of eyes to even grace its gaze in the library that day. As aforementioned, it _was_ Saturday and that meant the popular students – even at Hogwarts, social hierarchy was imposed, much to the chagrin of some – would and should be busy mingling. This student, however, saw it fit to stay behind, he even chose to hide behind a shelf; this was Cedric Diggory.

Hermione turned around and briskly walked to the other side of the library, aggravated that she seemingly could not find the book she wanted. She headed in Cedric's direction and as he moved aside to avoid being seen, he clumsily knocked over a cart of books Madam Pince hadn't sorted through yet. That, of course, brought to him unwanted attention, not only from the fourth-year striding towards him, but also from the strict librarian. Madam Pince was right at his side within seconds.

"Mr Diggory, your gaucheness endangers my line of work entirely, do you know that?" she lectured. As there wasn't any other student present besides Hermione, she did not mind raising her voice a little. "This hasn't been the first time you've knocked over a pile of books. Make that four piles of books _and_ my trolley. Well, you're going to have to pick all of them up, _without_ using magic. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cedric muttered, embarrassed at his actions as well as angry at the woman for making such a big fuss out of things. _Old hag,_ he thought. _Don't take it out on me that you're a hundred and eleven._

With a curt nod at him, Madam Pince walked back to her desk at the front of the library.

_Should I help him?_ Hermione thought, standing awkwardly nearby as Cedric began to pick up the books. _That's an awful lot for someone to do._

"Here, let me help with those," she offered gawkily, rigidly kneeling down and helping to retrieve the books that had fallen and slid beneath the book shelves. She mentally slapped herself in the process, angry that she was so socially inept that she couldn't even talk properly around strangers.

"Um, thank you," Cedric mumbled back.

He didn't know her well and didn't know what else to say. He had met her in the summer; she was with the Weasleys at the Quidditch World Cup. During that time, they hardly spoke, except for the occasional "hello" or "how are you". Once they returned to Hogwarts, they never saw each other except at mealtimes. Cedric and Hermione obviously never shared classes and they travelled in vastly different social circles. The fact that they were in different houses made it all the more impossible for them to meet at leisure.

Both students kept quiet as they slowly worked to get all the tomes back on the trolley without the use of magic.

"S-so what brings you to the library? Y-you know, besides kn-nocking books over," Hermione spoke as she stood from her position up, although it came out as more of a squeak than anything else, and she even stammered. Her eyes never left the floor; it was as though she saw an incredible insignia of sorts imprinted on the hardwood and that it fascinated her because she could not once take her eyes off that same spot. Immediately she felt her cheeks flush with colour and her eyes widen slightly, but she tried to keep her composure all the same. As she raised her eyes from the floor to meet his, she felt her cheeks heat up even more and she guessed that she was about nine shades of red. She couldn't stare at those ice-blue eyes longer than a few seconds.

Even though she wasn't surprised at her lack of confidence, she wanted to kick herself more than ever at that moment.

"Well…" he looked ready to tell of some grand tale that he'd previously rehearsed on how he had managed to end up in a library of all places on a sunny Saturday when he took a good long look at her. It made her feel uncomfortable, but he continued to study her. _She won't tell,_ he said to himself. He took a deep breath and whispered, "Okay, look, promise me you won't tell anybody all right? I'm…hiding."

"Hiding?" Hermione was so shocked that she forgot about her meekness around Cedric. She dropped the books in her hands and one particularly fat hardcover landed right on her foot. "Ow!" she groaned, rubbing it and wincing. It didn't deter her from getting a reason out of him, though, and her gaze flew up to meet his. "Hiding from what?"

_Who knew she could be this loud?_ Cedric thought, amused at the small scene before him.

Suddenly realising her volume, she glanced around frantically for Madam Pince's hawk glare – one that she was sure was just like a Basilisk's gaze – but as it didn't seem to be lurking between the shelves or outwardly staring at them, she turned back to him with an apologetic smile and gestured for him to speak.

He shuffled around a bit – he even helped her pick up the small load – as though not really wanting to reveal any more information than he had, or as though he was about to lie about his reasons. In the end, after another good, long staring contest with her, decided that he could trust her about it. "Oh, _all right_. I was hiding from…from Cho, okay?"

Hermione was so taken aback once more that she snorted in laughter. Cedric didn't appear to be all that bothered by it, just a tad surprised. However, she seemed to realise what she did and flushed an even deeper shade of red. _Was it even possible to do such a thing?_ She thought, self-conscious. However, even after her small folly, she still remained giggly as she said to him, "Um…if you don't mind me asking, exactly _why_ are you hiding from her?"

"Well," he began as he placed the stack of books he had in his hand on the top shelf of the trolley. "I mean…she…she likes to follow me around and…well, quite frankly, I'm not too happy about that. In fact, it's not just her, it's every other girl who's come up to speak to me. They tend to stalk me a little bit and it's honestly quite terrifying. Imagine turning the corner on your way to the loo or somewhere and out pops a girl dying to speak to you or something and you really can't blatantly tell her to go away because that would be awfully rude…"

By then, Hermione was laughing hysterically – or she would've been if she didn't try to control her laughter and keep it to the bare minimum. It hardly worked. She had cupped her hands over her mouth to stop the noise from coming out, but had only ended up chuckling more and the muffling didn't really lower her volume.

"Miss Granger, why in the name of Merlin are you having a laughing fit in my library?" asked Madam Pince crossly.

"Oh, I-I'm so-orry, Madam Pince," Hermione suppressed her mirth just long enough to give Madam Pince a straight face to answer her. "I'll keep it down."

"You'd better," and with that, the grumpy librarian was off to her front desk once more.

Hermione turned back to Cedric, only to find amusement written all over his face at that little sight.

"Quite the little actress, are you?" he teased slightly, making her giggle again.

"Oh, shut it," she mumbled, a smile playing on her lips. "I just find it hilarious that you're hiding from girls. Particularly the ones that like you so much! You, Cedric Diggory, best Seeker Hufflepuff has ever had…"

Cedric felt a sudden surge of happiness at the revelation that Hermione even knew his name. The corners of his mouth creased upwards in a small smirk; however its true meaning was well-disguised. He watched her rattle on a little bit more.

"…and here you are, crouched between a couple of library bookshelves, hoping to find some quiet time? I just can't believe it," she finished, her grin full as the Cheshire cat's by then.

Cedric snickered slightly as he wheeled the trolley out to find Madam Pince to show her that he had indeed picked all her books up. "Okay, enough about me. What are you doing here? It's Saturday! Aren't you supposed to be out with your friends or something?"

"Well, I…" Hermione felt her cheeks flush once more and her embarrassment rose and self-confidence dwindled. "I, uh, I… Iwaslookingforbooksonhouseelves."

"Beg your pardon?" Cedric looked at her, a bit confused.

"I was…looking to find books on…on house-elves and on their enslavement and…things…" she mumbled, almost all assurance gone from her system. She expected him to burst out laughing; mocking her cruelly.

Instead, he asked her, "Well, what do you need to read up on house-elves for?" he stopped the trolley in front of Madam Pince, who began examining it.

"I don't expect anybody to understand, but I want to set up a…an association of sorts. I've decided to call it the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, or SPEW, actually…and…"

She stopped midway, at a loss for words. What was she babbling on about? What are the odds that the most popular student at Hogwarts, let alone an older one, would want to know anything about her plan? He probably already thought she was stupid for wanting elf rights, and would react just how she imagined Harry and Ron would…

"Wow," Cedric said. His response surprised Hermione and she took a chance to look up at him through timid eyes. He looked like he was unable to say any more and she felt like breathing a sigh of relief. As long as he didn't ridicule her cause, whatever reaction he gave her was acceptable.

"All right, you're free to go Mr Diggory, but don't let me catch you lurking around my library without rhyme or reason one more time, is that understood? What were you doing here anyway?" Madam Pince peered at Cedric with beady eyes.

"Um, I was…" Cedric started, wanting to laugh at the thought of revealing his proper intentions. He knew it would not sit well with this almost-medieval librarian, though and tried to come up with an excuse.

"He was helping me find books for my reference, Madam Pince," Hermione spoke up. "I couldn't find a particular book and asked him to help me. He was being clumsy and just knocked things over."

"Yes…well…" Madam Pince seemed like she only believed half of the explanation for she continued to stare at Cedric with calculative eyes. However, she let the matter rest. "Just don't let me see you prowling around again. I might even think you're up to no good, brewing illegal potions of the sort. Professor Snape tells me you have an aptitude for Potions."

"Why would he discuss my ability in his class with you?" Cedric questioned and this time, he couldn't tone down the attitude in his voice. He seemed to be insinuating _something_ or _other_…

"How dare you …!" Madam Pince looked about ready to explode.

"I'm sure," Hermione defended yet again, "that what Cedric means to say is that he's shocked his teachers would discuss his capacity with anybody but the headmaster. I'm positive he doesn't mean anything personal. _Do you_, Cedric?" she looked at him, hoping he wouldn't think it a wise time to spout nonsense and test her patience.

"What she said, Madam Pince," was his only reply after a short pause and with that, he sauntered out of the library without a word, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth once again.

Hermione thanked the (still slightly angry) librarian as she hurriedly gathered her things and left the library. She checked her watch; it was around five o'clock. Harry and Ron should have been back from Hogsmeade by then. Not looking where she was going, she walked straight into Cedric, knocking them both over. Apparently, he had been waiting for her out in the corridor.

He stood up quickly, brushed himself off slightly and held out a palm to help her up. Hermione gathered her bag from the floor and took his hand, standing up, wobbling a little under the weight of the books she had in her carrier. She gained her centre and smiled up at him in a silent thank-you.

"Thanks, by the way," he told her. "For…that." He didn't seem to know what else to say; all he did was gesture towards the library doors.

"Oh, it's…it's all right. No problem. Fine. Yes, exactly," Hermione seemed to realise she had been babbling again and she looked away from Cedric, discomfited. She couldn't help but notice that smirk again that constantly seemed to crease his lips when he was amused. "Do you always look like that?" she wondered out loud.

"Like what?"

"Like there's always a private joke in everything."

Cedric seemed to think about it a little, before widening his smirk to a full grin and replying, "Yeah, I-I think I do," he looked right at her and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I'll see you around, Hermione."

He walked off without another word.

All Hermione could think of as she looked at his retreating back – as it got smaller and smaller as he walked further and further along the corridor – was, _He knows my name?_

She felt a smile tug at her lips and her hand subconsciously rising to touch the area on her shoulder he had patted.

* * *

**A/N:** This a seriously AU story like none I've ever written. I'm not used to writing AU at all, but I'm actually quite pleased at how this pairing turned out. I'm a full canon shipper, but watching loads of AU fan videos for Harry Potter has got my mind a-whirlin'! ...Yeah, so anyways, feedback feedback feedback! Please and thank you, with sugar cubes and extra sweetener =D (That's kind of gross to me, but nevermind! Reviews are **always always** appreciated as long as they aren't rude!) Hopefully this one'll attract readers because of its consumer quality ;) (Cedric...HP4...R-Patz...Edward..._Twilight_...I strongly dislike _Twilight_ but never mind that...see the link?) Thanks for reading anyway!


	2. Chapter Two

"Pomona, what he is _implying_ is that Irma and I…"

"I know perfectly well what you think he's _implying_, Severus, but I'm sorry to say that this really doesn't sound like the Cedric Diggory I know and have taught. He has never spoken out of turn before…"

"Well, it's simply _saddening_ that he has to break his perfect streak, then isn't it?" Professor Snape's words dripped with both venom and sarcasm and his face was twisted into an ugly shape. "You would do well to teach him to hold his tongue. If he does not learn to keep his insinuations to himself,_ I_ will have to deal with him."

His voice had reached a deathly low pitch; it was almost inaudible. However, this borderline threat didn't faze Professor Sprout one bit. She merely glared at him and replied coldly, "You will do yourself a favour to stop putting yourself in situations such as this one, Severus. May I remind you that all punishments go through the Head of House."

She then stalked away without another word, leaving Snape standing alone in the deserted corridor, clenching his fists in aggravation.

* * *

_Snape's late for class today,_ Cedric observed as he checked his watch, reclining in his seat and kicking his long legs up on his desk. _Really late._

Hufflepuffs were double-blocked with Slytherins for Potions that day although it was obvious that animosity was floating between the Houses. Students from the same House interacted with one another, throwing glares and sneers at others from the rival House every once in awhile. It was the worst way to start the day in Cedric's opinion and it didn't help things when someone from across the room started throwing objects around, and a ladle struck him squarely on the back of the head. He lifted his hand to the spot it had hit, feeling a large bump forming. Rubbing it slightly, he turned around in his seat, trying to guess who had thrown the damned thing. It was probably a Slytherin, but…

Cedric didn't have much time to think, because all of a sudden, he was on the floor in a "pop!" He had landed right on his bottom too and quite frankly, his mood was souring. Snape had entered the classroom rather quietly and had instead decided to surprise his students by making their tables and chairs vanish.

"Cauldrons and ingredients out, you will be making a potion today."

"But _sir_," Cedric had to fight the urge to spit it out rudely. He was not-too-pleased with his greasy-haired professor. "You told us all today was a theory lesson. Nobody in Hufflepuff brought their cauldrons."

The rest of his House-mates slowly nodded in agreement. Professor Snape, however, remained thoroughly unimpressed.

"Hm. Well, then that's too bad now, isn't it? Today's lesson will count towards your evaluation for your N.E.W.T. exam…"

"Professor!" Cedric yelled in protest, shocking everybody including himself. "That just isn't fair! If you told us…"

"I have every right," Professor Snape's countenance was suddenly so close to Cedric's that the latter could smell the former's foul breath that tickled his skin, "to change class plans as I see fit, Mr Diggory. I am sure you are aware of that, being a model pupil for this class. It seems as though you do not deserve that title, seeing as you have neglected to come to class prepared…"

Several Slytherin students began snickering very loudly.

"I came to class prepared under _your_ instructions, Professor," Cedric argued, his eyes narrowed to slits. "It's _your_ failure as a teacher if you don't give out directives well."

Everyone fell silent. Thick anticipation filled the room as everyone held their breaths, expecting Professor Snape to explode and to even grow violent, but he remained calm. He stood in his position for a few moments, his cold black eyes staring into Cedric's blue ones, although the latter was hardly deterred. He just glared back, as though challenging his teacher.

"See me tonight straight after dinner, Mr Diggory," Professor Snape said, although it came out as more of a whisper; a menacing, bone-chilling whisper. "I will have to deal with your attitude problems personally. Ten points from Hufflepuff."

Cedric did nothing to reply; he just remained rigid as he unrelentingly glowered. His gaze never left Professor Snape's. It was only when the latter turned around to face the rest of the class to give further instruction on their practical assessment that this single form of contact was broken. Just then did Cedric realise he had been holding his breath and he exhaled harshly and balled his fists. His House-mate and friend, Alfie Stebbins, placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head slightly, indicating that he should just let it go. Deciding to take this small piece of advice, Cedric stalked to the back of the classroom, where he remained for the rest of the lesson. He could not do anything for the next hour, having left his cauldron in his dormitory and Professor Snape disallowing any member of his class to leave once lesson had commenced. However, once they were dismissed, he bolted right out the door.

* * *

"Too thin," Professor Snape commented snidely as Neville Longbottom curled under his gaze. "Texture is much too coarse and it is even in the wrong colour, Longbottom. What on earth are you doing in my class? I take it you will not be taking Potions as a N.E.W.T. subject? After all, it is _hardly_ your best."

Neville did nothing to answer. He could barely even keep Professor Snape's gaze. Once the bat-like teacher had swept pass his cauldron, his slight shivering reduced considerably.

"Neville," Hermione whispered to him. If Professor Snape caught anybody in his class talking without permission, he always set an extra set of homework. She didn't want to get Neville in trouble, but she couldn't just stand there and let him get ridiculed. "You need to add more essence of belladonna. It will give you the right texture, but be careful to add it bit by bit so as to avoid…"

"Miss Granger, what are you discussing with Mr Longbottom?" Professor Snape stood over them, chronically glaring. "I don't recall you being his _mother_, _spoon-feeding_ him every instruction when he is supposed to work on this potion _on his own_." his angry gaze shifted to Neville, he began cowering again. "And you, Mr Longbottom, I expected more integrity from you, I really thought you could do better…"

"You really thought that? Well, then maybe it's time you showed it," Hermione muttered under her breath, but Professor Snape had heard her.

"Miss Granger, for speaking out of turn, you will see me tonight after dinner to arrange a detention. Ten points from Gryffindor," he spoke quickly, a sardonic smirk painted across his livid lips. He turned around before she had opened her mouth to protest, remarking, "Tut tut, students these days…"

Hermione glared daggers at the professor's back for a few moments before turning towards Harry and angrily muttering, "Can you believe him?!"

Harry shook his head sympathetically and looked as though he was about to say something when a small explosion occurred to his left. Soon, all eyes turned on Ron, who stood covered in bright purple potion, looking utterly disgusted. Professor Snape was annoyingly blasé about the situation, taking his time to walk over to the cauldron to inspect. When Snape's back was to her, Hermione turned to Neville and said in an undertone, "And as I was saying earlier, _that's_ what happens when you add too much essence of belladonna."

* * *

"That man is out of control," Hermione grumbled, plopping herself into a seat in the Great Hall that night at dinner. She had been complaining about Professor Snape all day and she wasn't conceding just yet. "I can't believe he wants to give me detention for talking in class. That's never happened to me before!"

"Hermione, you hardly get detentions," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of chicken, beef and lamb. Nobody really understood or bothered to decipher how the boy could stuff so much food in his mouth. He swallowed before continuing. "And besides, Snape can't punish you too badly. It was only talking."

"But think about how this will look on my record! I'd rather have more detentions if it means I could have a more balanced testimony. Imagine this, an all-perfect document and a _single_ blemish such as detention pops up! It's so unfair!" Hermione said shrilly, clearly upset. She frowned deeply as she used her spoon to push stew around her plate. "And he'll probably confine me to a desk without _anything_ to do. For hours! How am I supposed to pass my time there?"

Harry and Ron couldn't really answer. They had only ever gotten punished for relatively severe reasons. Among their many detention sessions, they had never had the pleasure (in their opinions) of simply sitting at a desk at any one of them. It had always been polishing, or cleaning, or sorting something chronic; it wasn't ever anything as simple as playing a staring game with the wood of a table.

"Well, bright side, 'Mione, no homework tonight! You don't have to worry so much," Ron tried again, but he only made Hermione groan in frustration. "Oh right, I forgot you lived off of homework…"

"That's not it! Homework isn't the problem. I was supposed to go to the library to finish my research after dinner! Good Merlin, this is not my day at all," she carped, throwing her spoon down and causing it to clang against the gold plate, small bits of stew spattering everywhere. She placed her head in her hands and heaved a huge sigh.

There was a short pause before Harry spoke up, "Um, Hermione, exactly what research are you doing?"

"Yeah, you practically _live_ in the library these days!" Ron piped up, his mouth now brimming with mashed potatoes.

Hermione looked up and glared at him. "Ronald, don't you _ever_ stop eating? And I can't tell you anything about my study until I'm done with it, I'm afraid!"

"Why not?" Both boys asked, somewhat resentfully.

"You know you can trust us, Hermione," Harry said, lifting a spoonful of soup to his mouth.

"But you'll all laugh at me, that's all you ever do when I tell you of my plans!" _Unlike him,_ Hermione thought to herself. She felt her cheeks going faintly red, embarrassed that she'd remembered. It wasn't as though it was anything to be fussed over, but that little glimmer of hope that somebody didn't find a need to make fun of her endeavours was oddly comforting.

"No, we won't, 'Mione! Don't you know us by now?" Ron prodded her arm with the handle end of his spoon.

"Of course I do. Which is why I'm choosing _not_ to tell you _anything_ yet," she said huffily, turning back to her relatively untouched dinner without another word.

Hermione only ate a little bit that night and when she'd decided she'd had enough, she told the boys that she would meet them in the common room later if she wasn't back too late.

"Come on, have a treacle tart, Hermione! You didn't eat much tonight," Harry said.

"I'm just not hungry, guys. I'll see you later," she said half-heartedly, picking up her bag and striding out of the Great Hall. Once outside, her shoulders drooped significantly. It wasn't just because of her lack of confidence in herself or in her appearance, but over the years, her back had gotten so bad from carrying mound after mound of heavy books to and from class, up and down stairs, in and out of the library, and so forth. She felt the weight on her shoulders increase even more as she got closer and closer to the dungeons that night.

_Should I knock?_ She thought bitterly. _There's no point in me being nice or polite to him. I could very well be rude about it…_

But her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of slight argument behind the door of Professor Snape's office. _Is he busy? The prick, he told me to come right after dinner and now I'm supposed to wait for him to settle some petty affair?_ She thought.

Still, curiosity got the better of Hermione and she slowly pushed the heavy office door open. She peered inside – it was dark, but she could still see who was in there, arguing his case with the professor, and she felt her heart skip a few beats faster. There he was; Cedric – model student and golden Quidditch player Cedric – spitting words of fire at Professor Snape.

_What's he doing here?_ She wondered and subconsciously pushed the door open at a wider angle. Immediately, her presence was made known.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled, backing out of the room. "I'll just…come back later."

"I did not ask you to leave, Miss Granger. Get back in here _now_," Professor Snape hissed callously, although his eyes were fixated right at his verbal fencing partner. "Sit at a desk and be quiet while I have a word with Mr Diggory."

"You've had more than a word with me already, _Professor_," Cedric replied in the same manner of frostiness. "And you're not even punishing me for what happened this morning; you're taking this to a personal level. I've never done anything to deserve being held in confinement here and spoken to the way you have."

"Why, you insolent-" Professor Snape rose from his seat quicker than lightning and had his hands firmly grabbing Cedric's shoulders.

"What, you're going to get violent now?" the Hufflepuff scoffed defiantly.

Professor Snape seemed to regain his composure slightly and retracted his arms. He stood bent over his desk for a moment, as though deep in thought. Finally, his bitter black eyes rose to meet the fierce blues of Cedric's, and he spoke, his words void of emotion, "I shall fetch your Head of House and she will hand out your punishment as she sees fit."

Before leaving, he turned his stare to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you're not to move from your spot until I return to hand out _your_ detention."

With that, he swept out of the office, slamming the door shut with so much force that it could have rattled the walls.

Things were silent for a few moments. Hermione had her eyes on her desk as she traced shapes on it; she didn't dare look up at him. However, she needn't have worried, for soon enough, Cedric's nonchalant snickering filled the hollowness of their hush. Hermione raised her eyes and gave him a look that seemed to question his sanity.

"You're about to get severely castigated and here you are, laughing away," she quipped. "Aren't you worried Professor Sprout will skin you alive?"

"She wouldn't," Cedric said. "She thrives to prove Snape wrong anyway, so as much as she can help it, she'll find a way to clear me. Or at least, lessen the extent of my punishment."

"You seem so sure of yourself. If she decides to side with Professor Snape on this, I shall laugh heartily indeed."

"Fine then, we'll have a bet. Five Sickles should do it!" Cedric plunked into a seat next to Hermione.

She looked at him, flabbergasted. "I am _not_ putting my money in on something as ridiculous as this!" she exclaimed, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's just because you're afraid to lose," he taunted her and watched as her expression turned indignant and she stomped on his foot. He winced slightly, but that was all he did, causing her to fold her arms in exasperation. It didn't half make him grin; it was oddly cute.

"I'm still not doing this bet," she mumbled sulkily.

"Come on, I was just joking! Don't be so upset," he shook her arm gently. When she didn't respond to him, he resigned. "Fine, fine! I accept and admit to the fact that I am a first-class prick by making you, Hermione Granger, displeased."

"Good thing you know it too!"

"I _can't_ believe you have the nerve to actually say that to me," he said to her, chuckling.

Hermione smiled at him slightly, leaning back in her seat. It had suddenly hit her that she was feeling comfortable around Cedric and that the awkwardness of their first (technically second) meeting was almost like a dream. It felt to her as though she had been friends with him her entire life. But a question bugged her.

"Can I ask how you know my name or even bother to remember it? I mean, I don't recall ever telling you I'm Hermione Granger or anything… in fact we never spoke before that day in the library and we never exchanged pleasantries."

"You're 'famous' around the school, Hermione. Although not always for the nicest reasons – you know, people call you a little know-it-all all the time – it's still enough for me to recognise you when I see you," he paused for a bit. "You bothered enough to remember _my_ name when I introduced myself last summer. So why can't I remember yours?"

"Cheeky," she grinned and slapped him on the arm. "But you name is everywhere either way; you're Quidditch captain!"

"And you're Harry Potter's best friend who goes on adventures with him. Explain to me how I can miss you when it's practically blown up in my face!"

They continued to have light-hearted chitchat until Professor Snape returned, clearly annoyed at their noise level.

"Mr Diggory, your Head of House would like to see you outside. Miss Granger, you will stay with me to discuss your punishment. At my desk, now."

Cedric stood up from his seat and when his back was towards Professor Snape, he rolled his eyes at Hermione and she had to keep herself from laughing out loud. He began doing hilarious imitations of their grouchy professor, twisting his face into odd expressions…

"Leave _now_, Mr Diggory."

"Yes, Professor," he mumbled and headed to the door, but right before he left, he turned to Hermione one more time and gave her a big smile.

That night as Professor Snape told her to sit and write lines for him at the desk, Hermione could barely pay attention to her instruction. She even had to ask him three times to remind her of what she was supposed to write.

"And I thought you had photographic memory, Miss Granger. After all, you seem to swallow your textbooks whole without a single thought of your own," Professor Snape snarled at her after the third time she had asked.

Normally, she would have been properly offended, but that night, all Hermione could do was smile widely at her professor and return to her work.

* * *

**A/N:** All right folks, Chapter Two has arrived and it's…relatively long to me, but it's full of dialogue anyway, so it's easy to read for sure. I'm not sure if anybody else picked this up (I personally didn't when I wrote, but oh well), however my beta says it seems that Hermione is drifting from Ron and Harry very quickly. That's not what I intended it to be, I assure you. They're just not as prominent in this story since it's, well, a Cedric/Hermione one :) Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I would love to hear your feedback. That makes me a very happy camper indeed!


	3. Chapter Three

"Good morning, you lot!" Hermione practically sang at breakfast. She fell into a seat opposite Ron and Harry in the Great Hall. She didn't have a chance to see them after her detention for Professor Snape had made her stay late writing her lines. It was long past eleven by the time she had arrived back at the common room, whistling quietly to herself. A huge smile was plastered on her face as she picked up a piece of toast and began to hastily butter it. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

She met with no response, just Harry's soft chewing to her left, and Ron's noisy slurping to her right. When she finally looked up at them, she noticed that they appeared incredibly tired. Ron was almost falling asleep in his cereal bowl and Harry had his head resting in his palm, eyes closed. She raised her eyebrows in question.

"No, it isn't a lovely day, Hermione," Ron mumbled sleepily, lifting his head to fully show his puffy red eyes. "We stayed up late last night waiting for you! I needed to ask you to help me with my Potions essay and I couldn't at all and now I'm worried sick that Snape'll turn me into a tea cosy!"

"And Ron insisted I waited up with him," Harry complained, glaring at his friend slightly, although he could barely keep his eyes open. He swiped at his glasses all of a sudden, accidentally smacking Ron's head in the process. "Oh, sorry, mate, I thought I saw a fly… Oh great! Now I'm seeing things!"

"You two should've known better!" Hermione reprimanded them, shaking her head before taking a bite of breakfast. "You knew I might have been back late so you shouldn't have stayed up! And Ronald, you're simply _horrid_! You planned on taking advantage of me again? And you expected me to let you just _copy_ my essay, is that right?"

Her tone was as indignant as her appearance. They had completely spoilt her mood that morning.

Ron had to go and ruin things as usual with an ill-thought-out response, "Well, actually, yeah." He didn't sound very sorry about it either.

Harry didn't say anything in response to her little tantrum, or Ron's insensitivity. He didn't dare to point it out, but Hermione had never actually really opposed to Ron replicating her essay to pass off as his own. Of course, she would _say_ that she wouldn't let him copy anything, however in the end, she always relented. Harry usually suspected there was _something_ going on between his two best friends, but he'd never had the courage to ask. Besides, he knew that they would just deny it vehemently, so there was no real point. He turned back to his scrambled eggs as he continued to listen to his friends bicker.

"…What on earth do you treat me as, Ronald Weasley?" she practically shrieked. "A walking, talking textbook you can copy out of?!"

"Well, if you've agreed to be one in the first place, why are you complaining now?!"

Finally, Hermione decided that she didn't want to bother speaking to Ron and chose to make Harry relay messages to him instead. She moodily ate her breakfast, occasionally shooting icy glares at the redhead. She did, however, wait for the both of them to groggily finish eating before they headed off to their first class, which was Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody. Everybody – bar Hermione – loved his lessons.

"His idea of a 'practical approach' comes at a cost," she grumbled to Harry as they entered the classroom, where Professor Moody was waiting for them. "He's using prohibited spells inside the school!"

"Shh!" Harry whispered as the rest of the class filtered into the room.

That day, Professor Moody saw it fit for his entire class to be put on the Imperius Curse. He received a few dodgy looks in response to his seemingly dangerous request, but nobody really dared to speak up. Well, nobody except for Hermione.

"Professor," she said timidly. "Y-you said so yourself that the Unforgivable Curses are illegal. Performing them in class…"

"I've also said before than Dumbledore wants you all equipped with the knowledge of how these curses work and that also means you have to know what they feel like," Professor Moody snarled, walking over to where Hermione stood. His wooden leg made dull clunks on the hardwood floor of the classroom. "He wants you fully prepared, but if you want to learn this while somebody does it to you with the intention to endanger your fellow men, be my guest. Anybody who wishes not to participate in this lesson is excused. I only want serious students here."

His eyes stared unblinkingly at Hermione and she felt as though they were boring into her head. She swallowed her protest and only meekly replied, "I d-didn't mean I wanted to leave, sir…"

The rest of the class progressed, with hardly anybody able to fight the curse at all. Only Harry had satisfactorily managed on his first attempt, and Professor Moody insisted he continued a few times over to throw it off completely. By the end of the lesson, Harry's shins were screaming at him in pain. Ron was jabbering about how brilliant their new professor was and Hermione looked considerably miffed. She still wasn't used to not being top in class.

The rest of the day, their classes seemed more brutal than what they had previously experienced. They had all anticipated it, but when Professor McGonagall started to have a go at everyone about their O.W.L. exams the following year, they felt the brunt of it all. Nobody liked being reminded that big tests lay before them and that they had to work extra hard in order for it to pay off. That fact was made even clearer during Care of Magical Creatures, when Draco Malfoy suddenly opposed Hagrid's suggestion to make notes on Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"I'm not wasting my evenings down here staring at these foul creatures when I get enough of them in class as it is," he'd said.

Hagrid had flushed slightly before growling, "If yeh don' do as yer told, I'll take a leaf outta Professor Moody's book, all right ya ferret?"

That single quote put everyone in Gryffindor in high spirits. Malfoy gulped down his retort, but looked red with anger all the same. He wasn't used to being scolded by Hagrid at all, but it was evident that the embarrassment of a fateful event of being turned into a gleaming white ferret from a few days ago was still weighing him down. He remained silent for the rest of the lesson.

Harry and Ron had a private chuckle over it on their way back to the castle after Care of Magical Creatures. They walked ahead of Hermione, who still refused to talk to Ron. Harry had tried all day to make them interact, but to no avail. He definitely partially blamed Ron for being a prick and remaining silent on the apology front, though he didn't let Hermione go scot-free either. Her prideful nature often made things difficult for the three of them.

"Hermione…" Harry started, turning around to face her on the track and giving her an annoyed look. "Just _talk_ to him…"

"Just tell him to _apologise_!" she angrily whispered to him.

Harry shook his head slightly. "I'll try, 'Mione, but you know how pig-headed he is! If he hasn't done it by tomorrow morning, would you please go talk to him?"

"Hell no, Harry. You know that. If he wants to remain silent, then I shall too. Oh, don't give me that look! It's _his_ fault!"

_This girl is impossible,_ Harry thought irritably. He shook his head and turned around again to talk to Ron. Hermione watched as they conversed and she saw Ron looking offended and Harry looking helplessly back in her direction before returning his gaze to Ron.

_Good Merlin,_ she grumbled to herself. She obviously knew that it wasn't much better that she was sulking and being childish, but if there was one thing she had always, _always_ stood for, it was her rights. She deserved that act of contrition from Ron. It sounded so feministic, but Hermione liked to think of herself as somewhat of a feminist anyway. She simply hated Ron's medieval views on girls and women. He also had ridiculous stereotypes for females that could make her head explode.

They finally made it to the Entrance Hall, but they were blocked by the large flock of students that had gathered around a sign there.

"What's going on?" Hermione wondered.

"Um…" Harry tried tip-toeing and jumping, but he still couldn't see much.

Ron, who was the tallest amongst them anyway, tip-toed and began to read the notice out loud to his friends, "Triwizard Tournament; The delegations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast."

He paused for a moment before grinning, "Bloody brilliant!"

"Yeah, _and_ it's Snape's period last on Friday!" Harry laughed with gusto. "Perfect timing, eh?"

"It's only a week away!" Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff poked into the conversation. "I wonder if Cedric knows about this. I should go tell him!"

"Who?" Ron asked, although his intonation suggested that he knew exactly who Ernie had been talking about.

"Diggory, remember?" Harry helped.

"Psh, _him_ as Hogwarts champion? That's likely!" Ron chuckled as he, Harry and Hermione made their way out of the crowd. "He's such an idiot; it'd be a real shock he's chosen."

"Better him than you, Ron," Hermione snapped, glaring at the freckly redhead. "I myself don't see any capabilities in you. And you're just upset because Hufflepuff beat Gryffindor in Quidditch that one time," she put her hand up to stop Ron's angry protest, "_In addition_, he's a great student _and_ he's a Prefect."

Her voice hinted finality, not unlike the way Professor McGonagall sometimes spoke.

"I-" Ron looked about ready to yell at her, but seemed at a loss for words. His cheeks were turning the colour of his hair. "I-… Y-you're just saying that because he's handsome, aren't you?! And I'll have you know that I do have capabilities!"

Hermione scoffed. "Oh and what might those be? Eating so much till you throw up? Or how about messing up in Potions, and spilling things all over yourself? Who's the one who's always had to get you out of such a sticky situation? Who, Ronald?"

"Guys, just _drop this_ already, will you?!" this was Harry, and he sounded incredibly fed up. "Do you even remember why you're fighting in the first place?"

Ron said nothing, but Hermione coldly remarked, "I do. It's because Ronald's too medieval to see that I'm someone to actually have feelings who doesn't appreciate being used whenever he needs help writing one of his stupid essays, or anything else for that matter!"

She looked and sounded on the verge of tears, but she held them back. Instead, she chose to abruptly turn around and stalk away in the direction they came from. It was nearly dark out and to have her running around outside was dangerous. Harry made a move to follow her, but upon seeing Ron roughly pushing his way into the Great Hall, felt caught in the middle once more. Still, he felt compelled to follow Ron. _He's more prone to hurting himself than Hermione is,_ Harry reasoned, as he hurried into the Great Hall. _She'll be okay._

* * *

"I can't believe him!" Hermione sniffed to herself, angrily swiping at her eyes as she trotted down the path once more. "That idiot! That foul imbecile!" She had no idea where she was heading – she wasn't even looking where she was going – but when she somehow ended up near the Whomping Willow, she stopped. She squatted where she was, taking deep and shaky breaths, trying to calm herself down. Nothing worked better than Ron's mockery though, and she continued mumbling incoherent insults aimed at the second-youngest Weasley as she violently rubbed at her eyes.

"You know, you look like you're going to dig your entire eye out of its socket," a deep voice from above called out. His voice softened considerably when he realised who it was. "Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?"

"Are you stupid or something? Do I look or sound all right to you?" she asked the darkness curtly. "Who the hell are you anyway? _Where_ are you?"

She began looking around her with suspicion, wondering if she was going mad from the day's events; all she saw were trees and the castle before her.

A short, kind laugh – one with warmth that reminded her so much of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, as well as the one in her grandparents' house in Bristol – cut through the cold air and the voice spoke, "Up the tree behind you."

Hermione spun around and looked up. At first, she still couldn't see anything and had to look hard enough to notice the distinct yellow against the otherwise black surrounding. It looked rather out of place in the setting and she ventured for a closer look. She felt a smile tug at her lips slightly when she recognised the boy as Cedric.

"What are you doing up a tree?" she asked softly, embarrassed that she had in fact yelled at him. "Hiding from more fans?"

"You could put it like that," Cedric smiled at her somewhat; only slightly. "Want to come up here?"

"I-I can't climb that."

Another laugh escaped the Hufflepuff's lips and with a flick of his wand, a cloud of steps appeared to ascend from the ground. It stopped at an empty spot next to him high up on one of the bigger branches of the tree. Hermione simply stared at it, seemingly deciding whether or not to trust its sturdiness.

"What, do you want a red carpet with that?" Cedric joked. "I haven't mastered how to do that yet!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and chose not to respond. Instead, she quickly and rather nervously clambered up the steps. She virtually ran up the tree and settled herself next to Cedric. Just as her feet left the top step, the staircase disintegrated. She looked a bit alarmed.

"I'll put it back when you want to go down," Cedric told her. "So; do you want to tell me why you're running around on the grounds in the dark? Trying to live up to the Gryffindor name of bravery or something?"

Hermione looked at him for a minute. They hadn't been speaking for very long and here he was, asking her to spill her reasons about her goings-on like he was an old friend she just hadn't seen in awhile. She fairly considered declining to his request. After all, this was far more personal than any of their other conversational topics had been. She remained silent as she dispassionately gazed around her – anywhere but in Cedric's direction.

Cedric seemed to notice her reluctance to divulge anything and immediately amended his statement. He honestly felt like slapping himself as he said, "Oh, um, sorry, never mind if you don't want to tell me. I mean, if you're not at ease to, then don't."

The last thing he ever wanted to do was make her angry or uncomfortable around him. He liked her company and to drive her away would probably be one of his stupider mistakes.

They sat in silence for a few moments, with Hermione playing with the hem of her skirt and Cedric tapping his fingers against the tree bark.

"You know, you take more initiative than Ron does," Hermione spoke up, although softly at first. She turned to look at him and could just barely make out his pale features in the shadows. "That's admirable."

"I don't get what you mean," he replied, genuinely confused.

"At least you know when you have to say sorry to somebody," her voice had gone lower and flimsier, and she felt annoyance bubble up in her. She wasn't angry anymore, but damn, was she irritated. She just didn't understand why it was so hard for Ron to utter a simple word of apology.

Cedric didn't seem to know how to reply and remained quiet. However, their silence was far from awkward; Hermione simply felt relaxed, like she had the previous night. She seemed to be seeing a lot of Cedric lately, all of those incidences she attributed to coincidence. There was a small part of her brain that longed to ask whether he was stalking her, because she certainly wasn't going out of her way to look for him, but she kept it in. Maybe it would be rude to ask.

_All the same, you have the right to know,_ her mind reprimanded her conscience.

"Are you following me or something?" she blurted out. She immediately put her hand to her mouth. "Oh sorry, that came out wrong…"

"No, no it's all right," Cedric said, amused, but there was a sense that he was taken aback by her question as well. "But, I'm not following you. I know we've seen each other a lot the past few days, so I can see where your question comes from. However, I think _I_ should be asking _you_ if you're following me," he chuckled. "After all, you seem to turn up in places I'm in, not the other way around."

_Was there anything he didn't know how to argue his way out of?_ Hermione questioned in her head. Still, he had a point. That meeting in the library was by chance. The previous night, she had walked in on his heated conversation with Professor Snape and even right then, she was the one who'd wandered into his place of solace. She found herself smiling a bit, yet she felt a fool at the same time.

"Is 'the ability to counteract' part of the requirements of being a Hufflepuff?" she teased, deciding to change the subject. "You seem to know how to find your way out of sticky situations using wordplay. I mean, just last night, you practically debated Professor Snape over what was right and what wasn't."

"Well," Cedric laughed again, "I don't know how much of it is a requirement per se, but it's certainly a quality of mine to have a way with words. One I may not be too proud of, honestly. I mean, I might be supposedly fair, just and all those lovely things Hufflepuffs are, but I have a sharp tongue. It gets me in more trouble than I should be in."

"A way with words, huh?" Hermione remarked, seemingly unbelievingly. "How good are you with advice?"

"Depends on what advice you want."

"How do you deal with your prick of a best friend?"

"Well, is it your fault or his that caused the situation? The one that merits him the title of 'prick'?"

"Well, I supposed it's both our faults…"

"Then apologise to him."

"That's not exactly what I wanted to hear," Hermione groaned.

"You don't like apologising?" Cedric asked, surprised. "You certainly don't strike me as the type of person who won't do what's right and if you said both of you are in the wrong, apologising is what seems correct."

"You don't have to explain it all so wordily, I get what you mean. I'm not daft after all. It's not that, though. It's just I feel he's more in the wrong than I am, I suppose," she mumbled, her eyes dropping to her hands as she traced shapes on her palms.

"That's probably how he feels towards you," Cedric said, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Immediately warmth seemed to pass through her and she brought her gaze to meet his. "You're never going to get anywhere if both of you stay tenacious about it."

He abruptly jumped from his seat on the branch, his feet hitting the ground with a loud thump. He raised his wand and conjured the staircase made of cloud again, allowing Hermione a path down. "We better get back to the castle before people send scouts looking for us."

"Thanks," she murmured.

She didn't have to say anything about it, but Cedric knew that she meant for both the counsel and the help he had given her getting her down the tree.

"It's no problem."

They looked at each other for a long time before turning towards the castle to head back inside. Dinner would have been over by then and Cedric would have had to return to Prefect duty.

"Cedric?" Hermione unexpectedly called out; he had walked a few paces in front of her. "Are you by any chance participating in the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it, why?" he turned around to look at her again. _Such nice eyes…_ She thought to herself for a brief moment, but snapped out of it with a shake of her head.

Hermione regained her composure again before answering. "Oh, uh, just because you seemed to be out here long; I didn't think you'd seen the sign in the Entrance Hall. The delegations from the other schools are arriving next Friday at 6 o'clock. We're supposed to welcome them or something… Thought you'd might like to know, if nobody's told you yet…"

She seemed to want to say something more, but stopped herself, feeling unsure.

"Oh, all right, thanks," he said, giving her a smile. It was the same one he'd shot her the night before in Professor Snape's office and she felt herself smiling back. He turned back around and walked on quickly ahead of her, reaching the Entrance Hall long before she did.

* * *

Hermione rushed to the Great Hall, only to find it empty. As quickly and quietly as she could, she hurried up and down corridors until she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Missy, you sure are out late! Not skulking around corridors, are you…" the Fat Lady began to reprimand.

"Balderdash!" Hermione nearly screamed her, although she fought to keep her voice down. The portrait swung open and she hurried into the common room.

"Children these days…" Hermione heard it mutter to itself as it closed.

Everyone was busy with their own devices and nobody seemed to notice her enter the common room late. She scanned the area, looking for her friends, and she found them immediately. Ron and Harry sat in a corner, engaged in a round of wizards' chess. Ginny and Neville stood close by, acting as spectators.

"Checkmate, Harry," Ron exclaimed proudly as Harry's king's head got sliced off by his pawn.

"Damn it, Ron!" Harry chuckled as he gathered the pieces symbolising his defeat. Neither of them noticed as Hermione approached them.

"H-hi," she stammered, hoping to attract their attention.

"D'you hear someone talking, Harry?" Ron asked superfluously. "I don't hear anything…"

"Oh, Ron, stop it. Hello, Hermione," Harry smiled up at her. "Where've you been all dinner?"

"Out on the grounds, Harry, and I implore you not to ask any more. Ronald," she sniffed, with an air of pride still floating around her, "…I think I owe you an apology. So…I'm sorry for acting the way that I did."

She said it all very quickly and didn't wait for his response either. Having said her piece, she turned around and stalked off to her dormitory.

* * *

**A/N:** This was done _days_ ago, but it took forever to be beta-ed. As always, reviews are nice, so hopefully you'll leave some feedback =) Advice, appraisal, constructive criticism, anything! You can also leave comments on how you'd like the next chapter to go if you want.


	4. Chapter Four

The week preceding the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations sparked newfound excitement in students. Everywhere you turned – be it during lessons or between them – people were gossiping and theorising about their newest visitors. They spoke of topics that ranged from the most absurd ways of their form of entrance to the highly intelligent skills they might have mastered, and this kept everyone's attention. People were brimming with enthusiasm, and it depended on how they looked at the situation. Every so often, you'd find students talking about the new friends they might make during this time of fellowship with their guests and yet once you turned the corner, the scenario would change and you'd find a group of cynics whispering about how they thought the visitors were more rivals than friends.

The fresh spirit of anticipation wasn't only embedded in the pupils of Hogwarts, but also in the staff members. It was like a massive spring cleaning had suddenly begun around the castle. Portraits were scoured (even the portrait residents worked at dusting off their robes, furniture, plants and accessories), floors were mopped, windows were wiped and walls were scrubbed – among other tiresome tasks no doubt carried out by house-elves. This revelation was staring Hermione awfully in her face. It was as though this was a brand new test on her battle for elfish rights. She had finally gotten enough information for (what she felt was) a well thought-out and powerful argument on the freedom of house-elves and had pitched her case to her two best friends, although she suspected that they only nodded their heads and agreed with what she'd said just so she would be happy. Harry and Ron had bought a S.P.E.W. badge for two Sickles each, but they refused to do anything else in terms of campaigning for the movement. Their small little contribution to S.P.E.W. was just to shut their bushy-haired friend up; they just didn't expressly tell her so.

Lessons on the 30th seemed to pass by at breakneck speed. As expected, nobody was paying much attention to them. More often than not, teachers had to lecture their students for being overly talkative during class time. However, it was obvious that even _they_ were anxiously waiting for 6 o'clock to arrive. The surprise that classes ended half an hour early was comforting to everyone, particular Harry, Ron and Hermione as they all had the opportunity to skip quite a bit of Potions; seeing less of Professor Snape meant a happier trio as far as they were concerned.

Before anybody knew it, it was five-thirty and students were dismissed from classes. Everybody hastily ran up the steps to their dormitories to fix themselves up. Although of course, the teachers still thought they needed grooming tips – among other things – when they had all finally gathered at the Entrance Hall in their cloaks, shivering in the late October gust.

"Miss Patil, take that thing out of your hair at once!" Professor McGonagall barked at Parvati, who grudgingly removed the ornamental butterfly from her plait before glaring at the professor's back as she passed. "And Longbottom, kindly do not reveal your lack of prowess of Transfiguration in front of anybody from Durmstrang, is that clear? Potter, don't you ever try to comb your hair? Miss Granger, I thought you would know better; pin your hair back at once!"

"Doesn't she know that it doesn't matter what I do with my hair? It's hopeless to even try to fix it!" Hermione grumbled as she painstakingly smoothed her hair out even though it kept bouncing back into its original shape; it was almost triangular as it sat on her head. "She's lucky it isn't summer; my hair frizzes then!"

"Same here – except for the frizzing part," Harry mumbled, running his fingers through his short black cut, although it remained exasperatingly chaotic. He fixed his glasses on his face before Professor McGonagall could yell at him about them too.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as the Gryffindor Head of House stalked by him without so much of a hint of criticism. He looked smugly at his friends, who rolled their eyes back at him.

"It's Ron's biggest accomplishment so far – getting fashion approval from McGonagall," Harry grinned at Hermione, who giggled as Ron looked aghast at his best friend's statement. Harry received a light punch on the arm for it.

Among the throngs of students busily trying to line themselves up, Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around just in time to see Cedric smiling and waving at her as he was being pushed away by all his Hufflepuff friends. He seemed to want to fight the crowd to get to her, but it carried him along swiftly anyway. He looked as though he wanted to tell her something at first, but shook his head with his characteristic smirk plastered across his face before he resigned and continued walking with the rest of his House.

_What was that all about?_ Hermione thought, a small grin creeping over her features. She turned around to find Harry and Ron gaping at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Diggory," Ron replied, sounding slightly peeved. "What does he want with you?"

"Nothing, he-"

"How come he tapped your shoulder then? It was obvious that he did it on purpose. It wasn't as though he simply just _brushed up_ against…"

"Oh Ron, you're being ridiculous; _again_," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, refusing to say anymore to the paranoid redhead.

Harry didn't even allow him to this time; he didn't think that he could stand his friends fighting all over again when just a week ago, Hermione had broken her personal vow of waiting for Ron to apologise, thus ending their squabble. Instead, he changed the subject to something less likely to start a quarrel.

"How d'you think the delegates are going to enter Hogwarts?" he asked loudly. "I say brooms."

"My bet's on Portkey, or maybe Apparition!" Ron exclaimed excitedly.

"Good Merlin, do I have to tell you a hundred times? You can't Apparate into Hogwarts!" Hermione sighed irritably, shaking her head slightly.

After a short wait, Professor Dumbledore called out that the representatives of Beauxbatons had finally arrived. They came by carriage, pulled by the most gigantic steeds imaginable. An enormous woman – literally, for she was the size of Hagrid – stepped forth from the carriage first and Professor Dumbledore greeted her as Madame Maxime. Behind her, all her students slowly emerged, dressed in light blue silk robes and no cloaks at all. Most of them were quivering from the cold and they looked at the Hogwarts castle as well as its students with much trepidation. Not much later, the Durmstrang delegation appeared. What seemed to simply be a singular black pole rising from the Great Lake evolved into an entire ship, its manifestation skeletal and sinister against the dark backdrop of the night sky. Durmstrang students looked largely like Crabbes and Goyles and when the school's Headmaster appeared from the shadows, he was introduced as Karkaroff. But the biggest treat from Durmstrang came in the form of the student who walked closely behind his Headmaster.

"Ah, Dumbledore, do you mind if we proceed inside first? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

"Harry!" Ron's voice was falsetto with excitement. "Harry, look! It-it's Viktor Krum!"

"Really, Ron, you're simply overreacting," Hermione remarked coolly. "Krum's just a Quidditch player!"

"He's not _just_ a Quidditch player, Hermione," Ron's eyes never left the back of Krum's head as he walked into the Great Hall. "He's one of the best Seekers in the world! I can't believe he's still in school…"

The Hogwarts students followed those of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang into the Great Hall, with much thrill brewing in them over the advent of a brilliant player in Quidditch history at their school. Girls searched themselves for quills and scraps of paper in order to get his autograph and Ron was no better, interrogating everyone he saw for a quill himself.

"_Goodness_," Hermione griped at Harry as they got themselves seated. Ron was practically begging for Krum to sit at the Gryffindor table, but all the representatives of Durmstrang took seats at the Slytherin table. "He's behaving in such a _ghastly_ manner."

While Ron protested and complained about the way Malfoy was chumming up to Krum, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair at the centre of the teacher's table at the front of the Hall. In a sonorous voice, he said, "Welcome and a very good evening to ladies, gentlemen, ghosts and most importantly, our guests. Hogwarts is honoured to be a host for this year's Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament will commence after the feast ends, but at this moment, I invite you all to eat, drink and make yourselves at home. Everybody tuck in!"

The golden plates and platters were soon filled to the brim with food of all sorts. It seemed like Hogwarts had truly stepped up a notch as far as culinary delights were concerned. There was a large variety of victuals, including exotic cuisine such as the French bouillabaisse. Needless to say, the feast was sumptuous indeed and the thick air had lightened considerably once everyone started eating and conversing. Even Hermione had stopped thinking of her S.P.E.W. endeavors – how the house-elves were obviously overworked preparing the feast – in favour of savouring the new fare.

About halfway through the banquet, a small paper crane found its way to Hermione's lap. She was so surprised she almost sloshed stew all over her skirt, but upon realising what it was, she turned around, looking in the direction it flew from, only to find Cedric grinning at her. He only stole glances, for he was busy chatting with his fellow sixth-year Hufflepuffs – no doubt about entering the Triwizard Tournament – but whenever he did get a chance to look at her, much less catch her eye, he looked at her with a specific gleam that Hermione couldn't identify.

Hermione stole a chance herself and grinned back before inconspicuously unfolding the small note and reading it.

_Hermione,_

_I didn't get a chance to say what I wanted previously in the Entrance Hall – there were too many people, I'm sure you were plenty aware. But I want to see you again. Meet me at the tree after dinner? Do come, I promise I won't make you a stow-away with me._

_-Cedric_

Hermione smiled slightly at Cedric's small attempt at being funny, and assumed that he meant the tree they had conversed atop the previous week. Immediately, she felt a small adrenaline rush within her; expectation crept up her as her smile slowly widened, and her cheeks blushed pink. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she did not notice Ron staring at her with suspicion written on his features.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked, a little harshly. "You look like a cherry."

"Uh, well, it's a happy occasion, Ronald," Hermione quickly covered up, even if she did so in a flustered manner, stuffing the note into the pocket of her robes. "What's there not to be pleased about? And I _do not_ look like a cherry, what makes you say that?"

"You're all red," Ron looked as though he only believed half of her elucidation, but surprisingly didn't bother to quiz her for information further. He turned to Harry and went back to their conversation about Veela. Hermione joined them, not wishing to look any more guarded that she had a secret agenda. Apparently, the Beauxbatons student that had walked over to claim their bouillabaisse for her table was one – a Veela – although Hermione vehemently argued otherwise. She was wrong though; one of the rare occurrences when she was. It seemed as though every boy was captivated by this girl.

She tried to sneak a glance at Cedric to see if this new girl had any effect on him, but didn't get the chance to, for Ron and Harry had suddenly switched topics, practically steering her attention to them. She got a feeling Ron was only doing that so she would not be so distracted, and he was probably still suspicious. However, in order to act normal, she didn't oppose it and kept talking to them. Somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to tell them anything about Cedric; at least, not yet. And she couldn't even tell Ron about it. Harry, maybe, but Ronald…Merlin knew how protective and _possessive_ he was.

_And it shouldn't matter if Cedric's attracted to her or not,_ she scolded herself, trying to rid her mind of the evil thoughts she was shooting at the supposed Veela. _It's not your concern if he is!_

After they had eaten, Professor Dumbledore stood once more, introducing Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman to the audience before carrying on to explain the rules and regulations of the Triwizard Tournament. His speech was like it had always been – light-hearted and springy – but there was an air of solemnity in it, as well as a sense of warning as he spoke of the dangers champions of the Tournament would face. After saying his piece, Argus Filch brought up the impartial selector of the competition – the Goblet of Fire. Students held their breaths as they watched it warily. It spat blue flames.

"They look like yours, Hermione," Harry whispered to her, clearly indicating Hermione's specialty of Conjuring a portable, bright blue fire from scratch.

"Well, it's obviously of a different property altogether, isn't it? It can't be the same fires – I'm sure this one won't do well to cook over," she replied shrewdly.

"…Students who wish to participate in the Tournament need only to write their name and school _clearly_ on a piece of parchment and throw it into the fire. They have twenty-four hours to do so, for this time tomorrow, Halloween, it will return the names of the three most worthy pupils and determine the champions. I implore all of you not to enter yourselves into the Tournament with the intention of making a joke out of it for if you are chosen, _there is no turning back_. It is a binding, magical contract with the Goblet once your name is pulled from its flames and you have to stick with it throughout the entire length of the Tournament. Be sure you are fully prepared to handle such grave tasks before you put forth your name.

"Now, you have all eaten and drunk and I think you are all ready for bed. Have a good night's rest!" Dumbledore concluded his speech with a small smile and a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes.

_Now comes the tricky bit,_ Hermione thought. _How do I sneak out?_

It wasn't entirely late – in fact it was only ten to nine. However, she knew that prowling around on the grounds at night was strongly frowned upon either way. Hermione nervously tugged at her cloak and looked around her; being an abider of the rules, she was always tense when she had to break them. She would hardly do it with her friends, much less on her own. Still, Cedric expected her to be there and she simply couldn't bring herself to let him sit in a tree fruitlessly waiting in the cold.

_He'll be so disappointed,_ she found herself thinking. However, why would _she_ be bothered if she disappointed _him_? They weren't friends – not enemies – but really nothing close to being chums. She found herself forgetting to answer her own question as she quickly thought of a way to leave the castle unnoticed.

Hermione strode in front of the rest of the Gryffindor crowd. She maneuvered her way through the masses, hoping that her friends would lose her trail. Luckily for her, they were stopped by Karkaroff gawking at Harry, and she managed to slip away overlooked – or so she thought.

"Where in the name of Merlin's privates is she _going_?!" Ron demanded from Harry as he noticed Hermione slice through the multitudes of people. "You know, she's hiding something from us. All throughout dinner, I've caught her _grinning_ at something and she's refusing to tell me anything!"

"I know, Ron, I'm not bloody daft," Harry murmured, also watching her steps. "Do you want to follow her?"

They had stopped in the hallway by then. They scuttled to the sidelines to avoid blocking everyone else. Ron was hesitant. He stared at her silhouette disappearing – becoming one with the shadows – as she headed further and further away from the castle.

Harry let out a humongous sigh, and chose to make the decision anyway. Ron was always so fickle. "Come on, let's go."

"What? We're following her?"

"Do you want to see where she's headed or not? _You're_ the one who's getting overly worked up over this!" Harry said exasperatedly, looking Ron full in the face. "I myself think she'll be fine on her own."

"And what makes you think she'll be all right?"

"She's _Hermione_, Ron. She's shrewd and she knows her abilities. She's confident of them and can hex anybody she wants to defend herself. At the same time, it's not as though she's leaving the grounds. She's headed in the direction of the Whomping Willow."

He paused upon realisation before continuing. "Okay, now _there's_ something to worry about."

Ron rolled his eyes as he followed Harry down the track Hermione had treaded. "Yeah, that makes me feel _loads_ better." Sarcasm dripped from his every word.

* * *

Hermione slipped and slid down the dirt path, clutching her cloak tightly around herself against the bitterness of the cold night air. She also rubbed her hands together for heat as she ran towards the spot near the Whomping Willow. It was so dark that Hermione could barely see anything. She was fortunate that the moon hung high in the sky, bright and round and illuminating the ground so she could at least see where she was going in the general sense. Looking from the distance, she saw the lights of the Great Hall put themselves out as the number of people dwindled. She looked around her, jogging on the spot to keep warm. _Where is he?_ She wondered. But she didn't have to wait long anyway.

"Hermione!" she heard her name being called and turned around. Cedric came running up to her, looking slightly winded. His breath came out in billows. "Sorry, did you wait long? Merlin, it's a bloody _nightmare_ trying to squeeze through that many students. I'm glad we don't have to share dormitories with the other schools. That would be too much…"

He stopped babbling for a moment when he noticed her shivering on the spot. It was oddly cute and at the same time, pitying. She was just trying to be polite and listen to him talk nonstop. Cedric had a thought to hug her warm, but shook it away. He quickly pulled his wand from his robe pocket and Conjured the staircase of mist once more. "After you."

* * *

"Diggory?!" Ron whispered irritably from behind a nearby bush, marching on the spot due to the chill and accidentally landing a foot on Harry's. "Sorry, Harry. She came all the way out here to meet that _prat_? _DIGGORY_?!"

"Shut up, Ron, they'll hear us!" Harry mumbled. He watched as Cedric made a staircase out of vapour against the branches, and he and Hermione made their way up the tree. _Utter privacy,_ he realised, hoping Ron wouldn't come to the same conclusion. _What did they need with that much privacy?_

* * *

Cedric and Hermione climbed up the tree and onto a fat branch. Hermione realised that they were higher up than they'd been the previous time. She subconsciously gripped his arm as he ascended after her. "I'm scared of heights," she admitted as she settled herself into her seat.

"Do you want to go lower? I just thought you'd like it better up here; you can see the stars," and indeed you could. If you just looked directly upwards, there they were, sparkling and winking at you as though they held secrets you wouldn't dare to fathom. Hermione sat in silence admiring them for a few moments.

The branch they were on was also smaller and crunched them together so closely that Cedric had to hold out an arm, placing it on the trunk of the tree, to push himself from leaning in and possibly invading Hermione's personal space. They had disappeared completely into the leaves of the tree in absolute concealment and it seemed as though tension in the air had congealed.

"You seem to like stargazing," he noted. "Do you think you could risk going _higher_? You can see even better up there. It's all up to you, of course."

"_No_, it's all right, I'm…I'm fine. I might get a heart attack if I go further up," Hermione breathed. She then remembered she was there for a purpose. "Um, Cedric, you, uh," _Get a grip of yourself,_ she scolded, closing her eyes for a moment. _No reason to act like a twit. Just ask him!_ "You wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, I did. I mean, uh, I do," he said. When she opened her eyes to look at him, she could that he had been looking at her rather intently, his blue eyes sparkling like the stars above them.

Hermione waited for him to continue, but when he didn't, she rolled her eyes. "And what may I ask do you wish to see me for?" she ragged, although it wasn't in a touchy manner.

_Hermione Granger, always getting down to business straight away,_ Cedric thought, tickled.

All the same, he seemed to choose his words carefully. He was quiet for awhile, but it was more of the inability to say his piece right than the pretence that he didn't trust her; because he did – he _did_ trust her. Even though they barely knew each other, something about Hermione awoke senses in him he didn't even know he had. Cedric enjoyed her company. He honestly didn't have very many friends – people seemed to like him well enough; they just never bothered to befriend him – but he liked to think of her as one of them – even if she didn't know that yet. Cedric had the impression that Hermione still thought he had ulterior motives for asking to see her. It seemed as though being Cedric Diggory meant that whatever you did had to have a goal – be it good or bad – and you couldn't do things just for the enjoyment of it.

"I suppose it's just been a long week and I'm truthfully very tired. Schoolwork has been…honestly, just hell. Professor Snape's not been the nicest to me since last week, y'know. Dealing with all my friends – or rather, 'fans', as you might say – can be a chore, what with the amount of acquaintances I have. Even sleeping in the dormitories isn't so comforting anymore because people just can't shut up around me. They keep talking nonstop, yet nothing they speak of holds my interest for more than five seconds… all right, I'm just babbling again, but the point is that I don't feel so stressed out when I'm sitting next to you, even if we don't necessarily say anything to one another. I missed…your company."

What he truly intended to say was 'I miss _you'_, but Cedric figured that it wouldn't have sat too well with her. He'd heard of the impressive punch she'd aimed at Malfoy just the year before and didn't want to be her next boxing bag.

Hermione didn't know what to say. Frankly, what did you say to someone who had just complimented you so greatly? She felt her cheeks and neck burn under his intense stare as she muttered, "Oh um, thank you. I, uh, am flattered…"

He started laughing a bit at her awkwardness. "Yeah, I know, you just can't answer that, can you?"

"No, I doubt I can," Hermione replied, amused, although softly. "I honestly never pictured the life of Cedric Diggory to be anything but luxury. You know, people actually like you! …"

She trailed off after that.

"Well, it's not so much just being popular anymore as it is getting tiring to deal with. If I truly loved my trendy lifestyle, I would've been more indulgent in it. And I know what you're implying about yourself," he looked away, "and I think that's not true; people _do_ like you. Or do I not count as a person?"

Hermione chuckled a bit, gazing up at the stars again, but this was just to avoid his gaze. She knew subtle flirtation when she saw it – even if she didn't see it often, "No, you're _not_ a person, Cedric Diggory. According to the rest of the student body – bar Slytherin House – you are as good as Merlin mixed in with Viktor Krum; Adonis."

That comment made Cedric grin.

"Now I remember why I like you so much!" he chortled, but sobered himself up almost immediately. "All right, so I'm not so self-centred. But honestly, you don't, like… you don't _react_ to me like the rest of the school does," his voice had lowered considerably. "I mean, besides the Slytherins, most people want to be around me. They somehow think it's cool. I just don't see why they do though. I think I'm a bit stupid, really, putting myself in situations where I _do_ get a lot of the limelight. But like I said, you just don't react, or rather, you respond differently and…and I appreciate that."

When Hermione didn't reply straight away, Cedric returned to studying her in silence – maybe he could _see_ her response instead. She turned her eyes to him and suddenly, the quietness wasn't all that contented. It was more discomforting and…electrifying than ever. Cedric wasn't looking at her in a perverse or gauche way that made people ill at ease. It was, to be honest, full of admiration. It was only then did Hermione in fact realise the close proximity the two of them were in – their faces were only several inches apart. She felt as though her face would explode from all the heat that had rushed up to her head, and she was going a bit light-headed. Did he have to look at her like that? _Like what?_ She questioned herself. Her conscience rebuked, telling her she knew exactly what it meant, but she swallowed it down anyway. She feared her eyes had gone so big that she looked like a bug of some sort. Suddenly, the cold surroundings didn't seem so bad after all. It counteracted with the temperature in her body and it kept her sane. However, she lost the ability to be astute.

"You… You always make me so tongue-tied," Hermione whispered when she finally got her head screwed back on tight – or as tight as it could go at that point. "How do you expect me to have a decent conversation with you when I can't even say anything at all?"

"That's why I don't expect you to say or do anything in response," Cedric replied, seizing the opportunity to lean in closer and playfully pinch her on the nose. She was clearly taken aback, but she kept her composure. Her lack of reaction caused the glee in Cedric's eyes to falter a bit; still, she held her ground.

_Don't be timid around him,_ a small voice right at the very back, in the tiniest possible niche, of her brain told her. _But take things slowly, you've never done this before._

"I like how you don't anticipate anything from me anyway," Hermione murmured, although from the look on her face following that statement, she wasn't supposed to say that. _No, not like that!_ She scolded herself. _Where the hell did that even come from?_ Yet, rather than looking away in her usual timorous fashion, she chose to keep her eyes fixed on Cedric's.

To her surprise, he smiled wide and laughed softly, starting up casual conversation about the Triwizard Tournament with her as though nothing had happened. But she still knew that there was something he'd just pushed away. Whatever it was, she was relieved the tension had lifted – for now.

* * *

"They're taking a bloody long time up there," Ron grumbled, shuffling his feet before he let his legs give out underneath him, sitting cross-legged on the grass.

"Yeah…" Harry whispered, looking back at his scowling friend. "What now, Ron?"

"Merlin knows what they're doing up there. They're taking ages. How do we know Diggory's not taking advantage of her right now? Can't we just climb up there and break it up?"

"Ron, you're being plain silly right now, you know we can't climb that tree on our own," Harry said, sounding way too much like Hermione for Ron's liking.

"You could levitate me! I say tear Diggory's guts out and…"

"Are you suggesting I use _Wingardium Leviosa_ on you?" Harry had to keep himself from laughing. "Goodness, Ron, what's gotten into you? You know I can't do that; it won't even work since you're not an object! Now I wish we never came. If I'd known you'd be a worrywart _anyway_, I wouldn't have bothered."

Both boys turned back towards the tree as they heard the leaves started to crackle.

* * *

They talked for a bit longer and were only reawaken by a cold gust of wind that swept through the foliage.

"You know, I'm surprised there're still so many leaves on this thing. It's already mid-autumn," Cedric mused, plucking one from a small twig above Hermione's head and brushing it against her cheek. She gave him an indignant look and slapped his hand away, actions he found incredibly adorable.

"You prat, don't drag that dirty thing over my face!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to ruin your porcelain skin, now would we?" he took his chance and ran a smooth finger over the spot the leaf had previously graced. Was it his imagination, or did she seem receptive to his touch? Hermione hid her emotions well, although Cedric was determined to get her out of that shell she'd built herself.

She had shifted to leaning against the bark of the trunk, her legs crossed under her. However, she was still not too happy about the height of the bough from the ground and continued to grip Cedric's arm.

"Want to go down now? We've been up here a long time," she cleared her throat and asked. She checked her watch and it read ten-thirty. Full curfew was imposed at eleven, but if Filch felt particularly nasty, he could begin stalking the corridors earlier.

"Sure, but Hermione," roles reversed, and it was Cedric's turn to grasp her hand. "I'd like to see you again, and next time, not up a tree. I get the feeling you don't want to be up here too much. Anyway, I'd like to actually…_talk_ to you; more. I want to get to know you. You know, the 'brainier' you, as some people like to say. Meet me at the Lake tomorrow?"

_This is nice,_ her brain was only responding to the fact that her hand was wrapped in his.

Still, the Lake… it was rather public to Hermione. Not that she thought they were going there as anything other than two friends sitting around and talking, but what if his friends saw them? What if Ron saw them? Goodness, the commotion it could cause. She felt reluctant. She thought it through for a moment as Cedric conjured the staircase to provide a passage down.

* * *

"Finally!" Ron said as he noticed something forming from the mists leading up to the topmost branches. "Harry, they're coming down!"

"Thank Merlin, I'm freezing," Harry replied through his chattering teeth. Indeed, the staircase had formed once again and he noticed two pairs of feet walking down it. "Ron… please don't attack Diggory, all right?"

"You take the fun out of everything," Ron grumbled sarcastically and Harry saw an unmistakable flash of anger in his eyes as Hermione came into view in the moonlight and Cedric followed her soon after. "Are they walking together? Damn it!"

Before Harry could even say anything, Ron roughly jammed his hands in his robe pockets and stalked off without so much of another word.

* * *

"All right, the Lake it is," Hermione gave Cedric her response as they began their trek up to the castle. "What time?"

"After lunch I suppose."

"Are you still entering the Triwizard Tournament, by any chance? It seems awfully dangerous…"

"Which is why I want to enter it," Cedric cut her off, grinning. "I'll tell you why tomorrow," he responded to her puzzled expression. "You have to go on ahead. It's okay for me to get caught wandering the halls, but not you."

"Oh, right, _Prefect_ duty," Hermione sardonically remarked. It was no surprise that she wished she was already one. "Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"You have only a year more before you can be one, so stop complaining about it!" Cedric grinned. "With any luck, you could be under me when I become Head Boy!"

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"I know."

"Cedric!"

"What? Is honesty a crime?"

They were both in stitches by the time they reached the Entrance Hall.

"All right," Cedric continued to tease as they reached the junction they were to part ways at, "run along now, off to bed!"

"Insufferable!" Hermione called from over her shoulder as she ran in the opposite direction, turning around only once more to beam at him.

* * *

**A/N:** I've had about four or five drafts of this chapter; it's long, but definitely not better than what I've written previously. The beginnings of every one of my drafts were virtually identical to what ended up in the final draft, but anything after the second paragraph has been revised over and over again until I pretty much got sick of writing this chapter. It was difficult to incorporate everything I wanted into it – and I don't think I even got it all in – but this is still satisfactory to a certain degree. I'll probably continue to prune this even after it's up; it's not that it's _bad_, so thank goodness for that. At least I like the conversation between Hermione and Cedric (thank goodness I like that part; it's the backbone of this story after all).

Oh and I know I reshuffled some dialogue, but it was a necessity I suppose.

This didn't go through my beta because she was simply taking way too long so feel free to point out any of my mistakes :)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it for what it is and your reviews are very much appreciated, as always :) Any suggestions or feedback is always considered. Thanks for reading!

**PS:** I also don't know if anybody who reads this will actually be interested in something _**completely**_ different, but this is a bit of self-advertisement haha: I have another story, Knights of Cydonia, which is a crossover story between HP and V for Vendetta. I know, I know, you probably don't give a damn. But on the off chance that you do, do read that one too! I'm not fussy with reviews, but it's nice to have some for stories I write ;)


	5. Chapter Five

Hermione didn't have breakfast with her friends on Halloween; she simply wasn't hungry. Rather, she was _excited_. Just the prospect of a lengthened meeting with Cedric whereby they could actually talk more than they had was honestly one of the most exhilarating things she'd ever experienced – and she didn't even know why. Another reason for her not to go to the Great Hall was that she'd managed to catch a glimpse of Ron's morning scowl right before she slipped down the opposite corridor towards the library. She didn't think she needed to deal with his mood swings at the moment; she was too _happy_. She'd see them later anyway when she went for lunch, so it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Miss Granger, I knew you were studious, but never would I have expected to see you here on a _Saturday_ at _eight_ in the morning!" Madam Pince said to her in greeting. Indeed, she looked a tad shocked that Hermione had decided to be the first visitor to the library. However, Hermione just waved to her in response and went towards the bookshelves.

She was supposed to pick out a book on early-day witchery for Professor Binns' class. She found her mind floating back to the image of the tall, golden-haired Hufflepuff Seeker, though. She wasn't joking or lying when she'd told him that she thought of him as Adonis the night before. However, she hadn't said it straightforwardly. Hermione wouldn't even dream of admitting something like that to a boy, let alone someone who was two years older than she was. She constantly wondered how people could be so forward about their feelings for somebody else. It seemed too brash for her, even with her Gryffindor bravery.

Hermione finally found a book that remotely resembled something that could help her with the assignment at hand and went to a table in a corner of the library. It was the crook she normally studied in as it meant the most privacy from the prying eyes of students. They tended to lurk around her, hoping to get _her_ to help them do _their_ work. At her routine desk, however, she had an excuse to sit alone there, because there was only room enough for one.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel someone's eyes boring into the back of her head that morning. Who would be in the library with her, besides Madam Pince, this early? Her four years at Hogwarts taught her that most students – even the most diligent ones – only entered the library in the afternoon. Hermione felt that she was a good judge to say so, because she practically lived in the library. She was quite used to the staring by then – even if she tried to avoid it all the same – but it still was uncustomary for someone to be watching her already.

Suddenly feeling unguarded and exposed, Hermione quickly spun around and caught the perpetrator in the act, although it was a person whom she'd least expected. It was Viktor Krum. They stared at each other for a few moments longer before he moved on to a table at the opposite end of the library.

_What the hell could he have wanted?_ She thought to herself, going back to her book (and her thoughts of Cedric).

She still had over two hours before she could see him. He'd told her to meet him at the Lake after lunch. Hermione kept unconsciously glancing at her watch. She'd never wanted time to pass by quicker than she did that day.

Hermione spent the next hour and a half poring over the thick tome. Deciding that she could do no more with it, she rose from her seat to return it to its shelf when she caught Krum staring _again_.

_What, does he think just because he's a world-famous Quidditch player he doesn't need to have manners?_ Hermione rolled her eyes as she disappeared among the rows of shelves. She continued selecting books for reference, before putting it all back in frustration. She'd pick things out, return to her little table and read a few pages before slamming it shut. Every once in awhile, she would catch Krum's incessant gaping, which got increasingly annoying; what in Merlin's name was his problem? After closing her sixth book, it was evident that her cheerful mood had soured considerably. Why had the library failed her all of a sudden? She sat and thought it through for a few minutes.

Hermione came to the deduction that it was just _her_ that day. She couldn't find any part of her that begged her to study; that pleaded for the comfort and solace of knowledge and books. She was too preoccupied. This very revelation honestly scared her, because it was something that she'd never experienced before.

Finally, she gathered herself up and left the library, all the while aware of Krum's unnerving gaze upon her. She felt _disgusted_. Her blood began to boil and she strode out at a quicker pace. There was something very disconcerting about his stare and she'd rather not look at it. Checking her watch, Hermione realised that if she took one of the longer routes towards the Great Hall, she could arrive there just in time for people to start going in for lunch.

Harry and Ron were already at the Gryffindor table when Hermione appeared. Ron was speaking with the twins – all the while stuffing food in his already-full mouth – while Harry absently ate, his eyes fixed on the Goblet of Fire at the front of the Hall. In fact, most students had their heads turned to face it, excitedly whispering. Hermione made her way to where her friends sat, although when she took a seat herself, she noticed Ron stiffen considerably. Harry took a moment to stare at him in annoyance before looking up at her, although his eyes showed that he wasn't exactly chipper to see her either.

Hermione frowned deeply, silently helping herself to stew. She wasn't hungry for anything that heavy, but the bowl sat right before her; she didn't really want to ask Ron to pass the sandwiches. She had a feeling he would snap at her.

They had a generally soundless meal. The twins had moved over to where Lee Jordan was and Hermione overheard them talking about using an ageing potion to cheat Professor Dumbledore's Age Line. She found herself rolling her eyes at the theory when Ron blurted out, "So why couldn't you tell us where you were going last night?"

Hermione's eyes shot up to meet Ron in her typical indignant look. "What? I don't know what you're talking about!"

Being defensive was just how she was when she was around Ron.

"Oh, come off it! We both saw you, Harry and me! You were with-" Before he got any louder and screamed it out to the whole school, Harry stuffed a huge bread roll in Ron's open mouth, and then turned to Hermione. As much as he'd wanted to talk to her about the situation, he didn't think that announcing her little rendezvous with Cedric would have caused her to open up to them at all. However, he still looked ready to give her a big lecture.

"'Mione, you know you should've told us where you were going," his voice was brotherly and caring. "We were really worried about you! That's why we…we followed you and…"

"You _followed_ me? Last night?" _So they knew,_ Hermione thought and she felt her cheeks flush red in embarrassment. So they'd seen her getting up the tree with Cedric. Knowing Ron, he'd probably jumped to so many conclusions faster than the speed he ate. He had pulled the bread roll from his mouth to yell some more, but Harry pushed three big biscuits in, shutting him up again.

Hermione was still trying to register everything that was going on around her. Being Little Miss Shrewd, she understood almost immediately and something surprising escaped her lips: laughter. But it wasn't in humour, it was a little cold and it didn't last longer than a few seconds. Her eyes flashed with anger and annoyance as she gawked at both boys.

"All right, firstly, I can't believe both of you tailed me last night! What am I, some child who can't take care of herself? Secondly, Harry, you're in no place to tell me to inform you lot where I'm going, or have you forgotten that that's what you like to do?"

"Hermione, that's different-"

"No it isn't! It's exactly the same!" she shrieked.

"Mmphmphh!" Ron mumbled through the biscuits he was chewing. When he was done, he looked at her icily and retorted, "What, you don't trust us enough, is that it? Is that why you didn't tell us where you'd flounced off to with-"

Hermione didn't let him say it. He was bound to shout Cedric's name out to the entire Great Hall. He couldn't let the cat out of the bag. What if he ruined everything? What if he ruined her chances? Somehow, she felt that things were still probable with Cedric, even if it was just on a friendship basis. This was Ronald Weasley after all, who was fully capable of tarnishing practically everything if he wanted to (sometimes even when he was unaware of it). Grabbing the largest pear from the fruit bowl near her, she jammed it between Ron's jaws. She looked as though she was going to say more, but she held it in.

"I think I'm done here," she said curtly, standing abruptly and sweeping out of the Great Hall.

"Hermione, wait!" she heard Harry getting up and running after her, but she didn't slow down. The nerve of those two! Following her everywhere as though she needed bodyguards to protect her from every little thing!

Unfortunately for Hermione, Harry was still faster than she was. He caught up with her and blocked her path, grabbing her arm so she would try to run off. He took a few moments to catch his breath.

However, instead of scolding her for simply leaving without so much of an explanation, Harry said in a gentle voice, "Take a walk with me? To Hagrid's?"

Hermione could only nod as she was still too aggravated to speak. They walked through the Entrance Hall and out onto the dirt path that led to Hagrid's hut. The sky looked a bit overcast, but there was still sunshine poking through the clouds. Neither of them spoke as they strolled along. Harry just watched her from the corner of his eye, hoping that she'd give him some sort of sign that she was ready for a civilised conversation that didn't end with punches being thrown, or in tears.

He didn't have to wait long though. it was Hermione who mumbled first. "I'm sorry, Harry. For…what I said back in the Great Hall. I just got so annoyed with you two, stalking me like that. I'm _still_ annoyed, in fact!"

"We wouldn't have stalked you if you'd told us where you were going in the first place," Harry said as kindly as possible, although he felt a bubble of irritation rise in him. "Ron was practically in a right state of hysterics. And you didn't even tell us what you were so happy about in the Great Hall. I wasn't paying attention, but Ron said you were grinning all the way through dinner or something."

Hermione was quiet for a few minutes, contemplating. "He'd sent me a Charmed crane and told me to meet him at the tree." She assumed that Harry would've known who "he" was by then, and didn't bother to clarify. "We sat up there and talked. That was all. If Ronald thought it was anything else, well then that's _his_ problem."

"You and…Diggory?" Harry had to force out the name and it wasn't without a sense of provocation.

She turned to face him sharply, eyeing him like a hawk. "I thought you liked Cedric."

"I don't hate him," was Harry's response. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but his adamancy didn't waver.

"But you dislike him."

"Look, we have a history, all right…"

"It was just one Quidditch Game!"

"Yeah and a big blow to Gryffindor because we lost it too! And it's not just that!"

"Then what is?"

Realising that he'd lost his top, Harry took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He didn't answer her question, though. He didn't really know what it was about Cedric that made him such a threat to him.

Instead, Harry chose to ask, "Besides, when did you two start becoming chummy in the first place? You barely know him and suddenly you're up some tree with him doing Merlin-knows-what…"

"I _told_ you, we were only talking! You're beginning to sound so much like Ronald that I don't even think I want to talk about this with you anymore," Hermione didn't sound irritated now. She sounded hurt. "I thought you'd understand, Harry. That's why I even told you he'd sent me the crane. And I obviously know him well enough to be up a tree with him, don't you think? At least I don't judge him beforehand."

They'd stopped walking by then and plainly stood on the track, staring at one another; Hermione glaring, Harry looking at her defiantly. He was at a loss for words. Maybe he'd handled this the wrong way.

"Okay, I'm sorry, 'Mione," he said softly, the sternness in his eyes alleviating. "For assuming stuff. Like I said before, I'm worried about you. Diggory, he's just-"

"Call him by his first name, Harry, it won't kill you," her voice was still curt.

"Fine, _Cedric_, then. He's got this reputation that I'm sure you know about and I'm afraid that in the end, it'll hurt you," he touched her arm tenderly. "He's always got girls following him around and he's quite the ladies' man…well, you know…"

He didn't want to continue because he knew that if he did, it would just be the cruel truth. He simply shrugged.

When Hermione didn't answer, he continued carefully, "All I'm saying is that Cedric's got so many friends, I don't know how much weight you'll be as one of them. I'm not trying to be hurtful or anything, but… You don't like him _that_ much, do you?" He wasn't blind to see that she'd grown attached to Cedric, but at the same time, he didn't want her to be _too_ close to someone who could potentially toss her aside without a thought. Harry had always been under the impression that Cedric's popular lifestyle was all that mattered to him, kind and honourable Hufflepuff or not.

"I…" Hermione didn't know how to respond. Her voice was thick, but she showed no indication that she was about to cry. Instead, she chose to say, "I'm supposed to meet him at the Lake right about now. I'll…see you later, Harry."

She took a ninety-degree turn towards the Great Lake, feeling a shadow of doubt creep over her. She didn't once turn around to see Harry's reaction. Nevertheless, by the sounds of his shuffling feet, she knew that he was retreating to the castle. She prayed and hoped that Harry wouldn't tell Ron anything. The latter simply _wouldn't_ understand; at all. At least Harry still knew how to talk reasonably.

_Maybe Harry's right though,_ Hermione thought miserably as she trudged along, suddenly dreading the meeting. _Maybe Cedric doesn't even like me, let alone like me like _that_. He probably won't even show up. I mean, why would he? He can't _want_ to see me. I'm Hermione Granger, the bookworm with the ugly hair and the buck teeth and-_

Her judgement was cut short, though, because she felt her heart skip to her throat. He was there as he promised he would be. Cedric sat cross-legged on the grass facing the Lake, the golden highlights in his brown hair catching the sun's rays, however few they may be that day. He somehow _gleamed_. Suddenly, Hermione felt her feet grow roots, but she pushed away the overwhelming sensation as she forced her feet to move forward. So he had come. Her hands subconsciously flew up to her hair, where she desperately tried to smooth it down, all to no avail. Still, when she cleared her throat to make her presence known to him, he smiled at her radiantly; it could have been a good competitor to a lovely evening's sunset. It was beautiful.

"H-hi," Hermione said softly, settling herself next to him. "Did you wait long?"

She subliminally yet compulsively smoothed the folds of her robes as they billowed around her. She couldn't help but feel like she was wearing a tent; what she would give to actually have a figure to fit into her clothes. She'd always felt so amorphous.

"Not really," he replied slightly absently. "I was afraid I'd kept you waiting again. I was flanked by my housemates. I've entered the Triwizard Tournament. Just put my name in the Goblet this morning. But enough about me; where were you at breakfast?"

"Library," Couldn't she form a proper sentence? She probably sounded like a four-year-old. She shook her head slightly before amending her statement, "I was in the library studying. I got there first thing today."

She decided to leave out the fact that she didn't really get that much work done because her brain was ceaselessly fixated on him all morning.

Hermione didn't know how Cedric did it, but he seemed to know that there was something wrong. He was looking at her concernedly. Was she really behaving all that differently? She herself couldn't take note, but maybe he did.

"Is something wrong, Hermione?" Merlin, she _loved_ the way he said her name. The way it just rolled off the end of his tongue sounded splendid.

"I just…I just had an argument with Harry and Ron," she answered, looking away from him. Far from feeling better, her thoughts were sudden driven in the direction that implied that Cedric didn't truly like her again. _But that's all lies,_ she tried to think. _If he really didn't like me, he wouldn't have asked me here._

"What happened?" Cedric questioned, his brows furrowing.

_Should I tell him? It's nothing short of embarrassing,_ Hermione contemplated a bit. "They saw us last night." She stopped there, deciding to let him figure out the rest.

"And they thought we were…?" so Harry and Ron were wrong (as she'd suspected) – Cedric wasn't a dimwit that needed to be spoon-fed every sentence. Laughter escaped his lips as he nodded. "But did you tell them…?"

"I can't tell Ron anything," Hermione responded flatly. "He's always misunderstanding me anyway. I couldn't really tell Harry much either."

"Do they still hate me for the Quidditch thing?"

_Those pricks are really wrong about this. Even Fred and George are. Cedric completely knows what's going on,_ Hermione realised.

"I honestly have no idea. I'd've thought they'd be over it by now."

"Well, there _is_ this thing going on about Gryffindors being stubborn…"

Hermione's jaw dropped and she whipped her head around to glare at him. "We are _not_ stubborn."

"I can't believe you even tried to deny it," Cedric was smiling at her. "That, my friend, is a very obstinate comment on its own."

"Like I said to you last night, you're _insufferable_."

"So is everyone who even dares defy you 'insufferable' now?" He wasn't annoyed with her; far from it. He was just being cheeky.

Their conversation took off from there. They talked about everything possible, and any tension that might have been determined to settle over them was gone. There was nothing bone-headed about Cedric, for he could speed-talk through intelligent topics quicker than Hermione could keep up – and she was an intelligent girl herself. Yet despite his overflowing knowledge and the obvious indication that he was a well-read individual, never once was he a showoff about it. He gave her time to speak and kept his ears open to listen. Only after she'd finished did he give his opinion and he was extremely eloquent and polite about it. To Hermione, this was the best thing about Cedric – the fact that he could chatter so well and so much – for it was something she hardly experienced while talking to her own friends. It wasn't as though they were ever going to shut up. They talked for hours; about school, politics, S.P.E.W. (Hermione was imploring Cedric to join, but he'd declined, much to her chagrin), friends, and even hobbies.

"…I would never have thought your parents take you camping," Cedric was saying. "I'm actually a bit surprised that you like the grass. And dirt. And mud. And all the insects crawling over you. Most girls don't." They had taken to lying on their backs in the field, staring up at the cloudy sky.

"Bear in mind you've hardly scratched the surface on me. There's more to Hermione Granger than meets the eye," which was true. She turned on her side to look at him. There were so many things Hermione was – so many keys about her full personality she'd kept hidden while around her Gryffindor counterparts – and the fact that she could be free to discuss all of it with Cedric was a feeling of odd liberation. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the impending rain, of the dry grass beneath them, even the Lake. She'd grown up on smells like that, though, going on treks with her parents.

Hermione had lain close to Cedric, and his distinct scent wafted through the air. She caught some of it and it thrilled her senses. Was he wearing cologne? She wasn't quite sure. She didn't quite realise it at first, but was soon caught off guard by him staring at her. It was the same thing as it had been the night before – she couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"I don't mind just looking at you – even if it means I'm superficial," He'd rolled on his side too, hardly leaving much room between their faces. Any closer and their noses would have touched. Thunder was erupting above them, but they took no notice.

"D-did you just say what I think you just said?" Her question came out in a slight squeak.

"What do you suppose I said?"

_How can I actually respond to that?_ Hermione felt her ears and neck burn again. She had managed to keep herself from blushing the full length of her conversation with Cedric up until that point.

"We should probably go inside. It's starting to drizzle," she softly replied, pushing herself to a sitting position, away from him. The apprehension between them was overpowering her. However, she wasn't lying about the rain, which fell quietly over them.

She felt his hand cover hers in the grass and it was like electricity jolted through her entire body, starting from there. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and rolled his thumb in circles over the top of it. His other hand reached up and brushed a few stray locks of her hair from her face. He tucked them behind her ear and could practically feel her shiver at his touch. Hermione felt goosebumps form on the back of her neck as she slowly exhaled; she only just become aware that she had been holding her breath.

Thunder clapped louder above their heads, and the large dollops of rain that had decided to fall from the grey billows brought them back to reality.

"Good Merlin!" Hermione shrieked in surprise, scrambling to her feet with Cedric in tow and taking off towards the castle. She was soaked through to her skin by the time they both arrived at the Entrance Hall, but was laughing all the same. He was drenched as well, although she thought that he looked much better than she did at that time. Even with his golden-brown hair flopped over his eyes in wet clumps, he still looked adorable. _I probably looked like a drowned rat,_ Hermione thought.

Noticing that he still had her hand in his, Hermione carefully wriggled it out, looking self-conscious. She stole a glance at Cedric, but he didn't seem offended by her gesture. He just tweaked her on the nose and said, "You all right, 'Mione?"

He'd done it; he'd called her by a nickname. Not "Hermione", but "'Mione". It sent shivers down her spine.

"Yeah, Cedric, I-"

He held a hand up to stop her. "Just call me Ced; everybody does."

Now _he_ was asking _her_ to call him by a moniker too. _Strange day,_ Hermione mused. _It's just too…nice._

"All right then, _Ced_, should we go?" she emphasised his pet name, which made him laugh, and gestured towards the Great Hall. "It's almost time for the Halloween feast."

"You want to go looking drenched?" he asked, amused.

"Why not?"

"I would've thought you'd at least want to look _presentable_!" Again, he was pulling her leg, even if his question would have been offensive otherwise.

Hermione stomped her foot in exasperation. "We won't be on time if we go and change," she pointed out.

"Just checking," Cedric grinned at her and took her hand again (she sucked in her breath through her teeth at the motion), walking in step with her to the Great Hall. However, once they neared the groups of students filing in, he dropped it, only looking back at her once before carrying on to meet his friends.

Hermione hurried along, meeting Harry and (unfortunately) Ron along the way. They gaped at her. Most of the other students she passed stared too, but she tried not to pay attention to them.

"What in the world happened to you?" Harry asked her, shocked. "You're all wet!"

"Yes, I know that Harry, you don't have to point it out. I got caught in the rain," she said matter-of-factly, as though it settled the matter.

"_Where_ were you all afternoon?" This was Ron, suspicious as always. "Harry told me you went to the library so explain how you got 'caught in the rain' there?" They shuffled into the Great Hall and took their normal seats respectively. It was then that Hermione realised that even Ginny was looking at her oddly. It only lasted around two seconds though. Then her eyes were towards Fred and George who sat opposite her.

Inwardly, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that Harry hadn't told on her – especially not to Ron. Nevertheless, she hated how she had to come up with an excuse to cover up her little outing with Cedric. She didn't really blame Harry for coming up with the library defence because it was plausible. However she simply couldn't lie about this one. It wasn't a crime to hang out with your friend by the Lake, so she should just confess.

Still, she swallowed her answer at the last minute due to worry; worry of Ron's lack of tact. Luckily for her though, the Halloween feast began shortly after they sat down and he could occupy himself enough to stop pestering her.

Everybody in the Great Hall was edgy, though. They were impatient for the feast to end; all dying to know who the Triwizard champions would be. Heads kept turning in the direction of the teachers' table with intolerant frowns painted across their faces. People ate with anxious looks, chattering like mad with their friends over who would be chosen for the competition. When the plates were finally cleared and perfectly pristine once more, the noise level skyrocketed. Everyone returned to near-silence when Professor Dumbledore stood from his seat and walked towards the Goblet of Fire.

He didn't say much – he only gave brief instruction for the champions to proceed to a chamber at the back once chosen. The Hogwarts Headmaster swept his wand in a circle, leaving the Hall in utter darkness except for the glowing carved pumpkins over the students' heads, and the Goblet itself. The blue-white flames spitting forth from the giant chalice seemed too excruciating to look at, but everyone's eyes were glued to them. Hermione wasn't much different. The flames were enchanting her. She sneaked a peek behind her to the Hufflepuff table at Cedric, who appeared apprehensive. It was no surprise that he was the fan favourite of many to be picked to participate. Even thought Hermione was rooting for Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor to be selected, she had a feeling that Cedric had a good chance of winning too. He was an honourable student as far as she knew, although she clearly didn't state this view of hers to any of her friends; most had always regarded Cedric as simply a "pretty boy" with no real talent or brain.

_They're wrong,_ she found herself thinking forcefully.

After about a minute more, the blaze flashed red and the first of the Triwizard champions was selected. Hermione held her breath.

* * *

**A/N:** That is the worst "cliffhanger" in the world – if you could even call it a cliffhanger in the first place! XD You know how it turns out anyway, even if it'll be reinforced later. I know the ending was abrupt, though. I just had to stop there because the chapter was getting ridiculous long. Whenever one pushes 5000 words or even tries to go dangerously near to that number, I tend to get worried – am I writing too much? I hope not.

…I know I talk too much and my A/Ns are always ridiculously long too. So yeah, nothing much to note here. Actually, there should be stuff I should be telling you, but I just can't remember. I knew about it all last night when I wrote about four-fifths of the chapter, however since I'm continuing after a pretty bad night's rest, my brain is a bit fuzzy. I'll edit this later if I feel there are some things I need to tell you ;)

Thanks for reading and don't forget to review if you have anything to say :)


	6. Chapter Six

"_The Durmstrang champion is… Viktor Krum!"_

"_The champion for Beauxbatons… Fleur Delacour!"_

"_The Hogwarts champion… Cedric Diggory!"_

_Applause resounded throughout the Great Hall as all three names were announced, each champion with their own set of supporters. Possibly the loudest cheer erupted when Cedric's name was called. Everybody was ready to begin celebrating, even Professor Dumbledore, but just before he could complete his congratulatory speech, a hush fell over the crowd. The Goblet of Fire had sparked red once more and had spat a fourth name from its flames. The Hogwarts Headmaster reached out a long arm, grasped the small slip of parchment and looked at it. He seemed to be reading it over several times before finally clearing his throat and saying –_

"_Harry Potter."_

* * *

Hermione rubbed her temples as discreetly as possible. She was listening to Ron ramble on and on about Harry and it was giving her a small headache. Last night's events were still playing heavily on her mind. She just pretended to be interested in what Ron was complaining about as her thoughts trailed off elsewhere.

"…And he didn't even tell me how he did it! The nerve of him! I'm his best friend; I have the right to know!" Ron angrily whispered to her, furiously stabbing his fork into a sausage on his plate. It poked right through to the metal with a horribly loud clang which made Hermione flinch. "He kept trying to deny it last night too, but come on; an idiot could tell he really did it. Why's he always got to do stuff like this? He claims he hates publicity, yet he completely makes himself seen all the time!"

Hermione said nothing to respond to him as she took tiny nibbles of her breakfast. She longed to have a chat with Harry – just so she could find out what _really_ happened – but she had to get rid of Ron. The problem was, the flaming redhead was also a friend of hers and to just abandon him, especially when he was this temperamental, was a bit unwise of her.

_But gosh, he's not really getting anywhere arguing with _me_ over _Harry_,_ she thought.

"Look, Ron," she finally said, holding up her hand. "I've got to get to the library to do some homework all right? I'll probably see you later at lunch."

"But you haven't eaten anything! Are you on some hunger strike for the house-elves or something again?" Ron looked her in disbelief.

"I'm bringing _this_ for a reason," Hermione wrapped a stack of toast in a napkin. She caught sight of his amazed look at her breaking the rules and frowned, placing one hand on her hip in (phony) aggravation. "Oh don't look at me like that! It's not as though _you're_ a saint!"

She stalked off, all the while hiding her smile. She knew full well that if she acted annoyed with Ron when he was in a bad mood himself, he wouldn't bother following her. Sure, it made him more annoyed, but she was willing to risk it. She walked briskly out of the Great Hall and rounded the sharp bend towards the House dormitories, and ran face first into someone's chest.

Hermione fell back, landing rather ungracefully on her bottom. She was careful not to drop the toast she was holding. She heard various soft snickers surrounding her and she glanced up. She'd bumped into Cedric, although he wasn't alone. He was with Hufflepuff friends – or followers, as he'd divulged to her – and a girl from Ravenclaw she recognised, Cho Chang. It was funny how she was clutching onto him like a clingy child. Hermione couldn't help but feel annoyance bubble up inside her at the sight. Cedric held out a hand and she took it, picking herself up and gathering her bruised dignity together, muttering a rather inaudible "thanks". Cedric's other friends had resorted to walking on ahead, still sniggering to themselves. Cho stayed behind, still glued to Cedric. At least she wasn't laughing. In fact, she looked very apologetic.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, trying to help Hermione brush dirt from her robes. "It was probably my fault. I was talking to Ced and he didn't seem to be paying attention to where he was going-"

"'Mione-" Cedric started. He sounded quite contrite – in more ways than one. However at the mention of the nickname, Cho tightened her grip on his arm and her eyes hardened a bit as she looked at him.

Hermione shook her head slightly and replied in a small voice, "It's all right. I'm fine. Really. It was my fault too."

She wasn't just replying Cho. Her eyes were on Cedric the entire time. She studied him for a few moments before one of his friends yelled from the entrance to the Great Hall, "Hey Ced! You coming or not? We're starving!" and broke her out of her thoughts.

"I'll, uh, I'll see you guys around, I suppose," Hermione said awkwardly, pushing past the two students and heading straight for the Gryffindor Tower. She tried her best to put that little encounter out of her mind as she went to find Harry.

She ran into him at the portrait hole and suggested that they take a stroll. They passed the Great Hall, and the Entrance Hall, before going out onto the lawn, walking towards the Lake. Once outside, Harry began retelling his story to her, from start to finish – from the time he entered the chamber.

"…and I really don't know how my name got in that cup," Harry finished. "You _do_ believe me, don't you?"

He was so anxious for agreement that he heaved a huge sigh of relief when Hermione smiled at him and nodded her head. They were sitting on the damp grass and looking out at the Durmstrang ship anchored on the Lake.

"Of course I believe you. You should've seen the expression on your face when Dumbledore called out your name. I reckon we should figure out who _did_ put your name in that Goblet though. I agree with Moody – oddly enough. It can't have been a student; the Goblet's too powerful for them to hoodwink. As well, students wouldn't be able to get over the Age Line either way – look at Fred and George and a few others! Sprouting beards when they tried to fool it with an ageing potion! There are not many other methods a student would be able to think of – only the most exceptional ones would've thought past an ageing potion. And-"

"Did you see Ron this morning?" Harry cut in.

"Er…erm yes," Hermione replied uncomfortably. "I saw him at breakfast."

Harry's features turned considerably grim. "Does he still think I'm lying to him about how I apparently got my name in that damned cup?"

"No, not _really_."

"Not really? Hermione, that was a yes or no question!" Harry fumed.

"Harry, you're as blind as Ronald is, honestly! Can't you see that he's _jealous_?" Hermione frowned. "He can't stand that once again, he's being pushed to the side while you get all the limelight and glory – that you're the celebrity _again_."

"'_Glory'_? He thinks this is glorifying?" Harry couldn't believe it.

"Of course he does! It doesn't help that his background shows that he has to live up to five older brothers, either. Now with the added pressure of being Harry Potter's best friend, he's always going to feel like he's being overshadowed. Oh, don't take this the wrong way, Harry, but it's just how it is. I think he wants to enter the Tournament to prove something. Whether it's to himself or to his family or even to the school, I'll never be certain. But when your name came out of the Goblet, he really lost his top because he thinks you don't need to enter at all – you've already got all the grandeur."

Harry groaned. "Tell him I'll switch roles with him any day!"

"I'm not saying a word to Ron unless you do it yourself first. You two have _got_ to sort this out; you're behaving like children!" Hermione scolded.

"A bit rich coming from you," Harry retorted, pleased to see Hermione's cheeks turn slightly pink at the reminder of her own behaviour.

"At least I apologised to him in the end!" she defended herself.

"But when I asked you to do it at first, you didn't want to," he pointed out. "You know, Ron was _very_ shocked when you walked right up and said sorry. I mean, he was all ready for a nasty remark or something. Then you said that and walked away and he just sat caught in headlights for a long time," he laughed richly, then stopped, a questioning look playing in his eyes. He began to pick through the dandelions on the lawn. "So why the sudden change of heart?"

Harry had guessed what Hermione's answer might be, but waited for her response. She didn't look at him as she played with the hem of her clothes. She tended to do that when she was nervous about something.

"I…had a little help with it," was her simple sentence, although it was rather shaky.

"Di- Cedric?" he offered, trying to keep the edginess from his voice. He had a real reason to think of Cedric as a rival now, but he didn't want to upset Hermione. She apparently still wanted to be friends with him. However, Harry noticed her eyes gloss over at the mention the name.

"Yes, Cedric," she replied. Her voice was close to being void of emotion.

Harry immediately realised something was wrong. He grasped her arm tightly and shook it. "Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you or anything?"

"He knocked me over."

Harry failed to see how that could constitute such a big offence. "Uh…excuse me?"

"I…I know I shouldn't be upset about it or anything – I mean I don't know where I ever got the idea…" she rambled, not seeming to notice Harry's confused expression. "I mean I should have…I should have known that he wouldn't…"

Hermione stopped short. She knew that she would start crying if she continued. She might just be overreacting – Cho could very well just be a friend of Cedric's, just like she was. But there was something in the way the Ravenclaw gripped his sleeve that boasted ownership and shot out warnings. Hermione didn't like that kind of possessiveness. She could tell that Cho was upset that Cedric knew another girl on nickname basis who wasn't in his own House. Maybe Cho considered Hermione a threat to whatever agenda she had, but either way, it didn't matter. Cedric hadn't said anything to contradict or confirm what Hermione was thinking (even though, she reasoned, he was probably genuinely clueless), and until he did, all she had were assumptions.

_It was just one run-in with them,_ she found herself trying to reassure herself. _But would you really let someone hold onto like that if you didn't have feelings for her?_

"'Mione?" Harry tapped her shoulder gently, hoping not to startle her. She had been quiet for several moments, seemingly thinking about something. "I still don't really understand. What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything, Harry," Hermione answered. _Which was true,_ she thought. "He just knocked into me without saying sorry." _That's a lie,_ her conscience spoke, but she pushed it back. "I hate people without manners," _That's not completely false,_ she fought with her sense of self. Then she looked over at Harry, "Just _drop_ it, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

Hermione knew that Harry was still suspicious of her truthfulness, but she swiftly switched topics to avoid anymore interrogation.

"You know what we have to do, right?" she asked him.

"Go back up to the castle and kick Ron's-"

"What I meant was _write to Sirius_," Hermione responded sharply. "You better not argue with me on this one because he'll want to know what's going on and he will find out on his own even if you don't tell him. This Tournament will be splashed all over the _Daily Prophet_ by tomorrow."

Harry mulled over her words for some minutes before finally conceding to write the letter. He felt like an awful whining child, but then again, Hermione had a point. They rose from where they sat on the ground and made a trip to the Owlery.

* * *

Over the next few days, when classes resumed, Hermione couldn't help but feel more exasperated than ever with her two friends, as well as more irritated with the rest of the student body. Harry and Ron still weren't speaking at all, and it didn't help that the rest of Hogwarts was acting incredibly cold to them. The Slytherins obviously went out of their way to make _any_ Gryffindor's life difficult anyway, so it didn't make much difference. However, the Hufflepuffs, who had once treated Gryffindors as their comrades, would glare at Hermione in the corridors as she moved from class to class, even when she was without Harry by her side. She supposed it was due to her association with him, and tried her best to ignore it. Ravenclaw wasn't very much kinder though, coming up with absurd theories on how Harry had probably deceived the Goblet and also shooting dirty looks.

Herbology on Monday was especially tense as Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff, who were working with Harry, Hermione and Ron, were incredibly icy towards the three of them. Even Professor Sprout seemed a bit unhappy with the Gryffindors that session, keeping her distance from Harry.

What made things even _more_ aggravating was the fact that Hermione hadn't had a chance to speak with Cedric personally ever since he'd been elected Hogwarts champion. It seemed that after the champions were chosen, he had gone back to being unaware of her existence. Hermione had tried reasoning with herself that he was probably just busy with schoolwork and entertaining his never-ending crowd of supporters, however there was always that little sliver of unease in her that said he wanted to revert back to simply not being around her because he didn't like her, or he didn't want to tarnish his golden reputation. It was much more difficult as it wasn't as though she didn't _see_ him on the grounds, but whenever she did, he was always flanked by students – including all of Krum's fans – and she had no means of contact with him. After he'd passed her in the corridors one day without so much of a "hello", she'd basically already given up that their friendship would last the Tournament.

Hermione spent her days being stiff on the outside, and miserable on the inside. At times when she was tired of being Harry's and Ron's messenger, she would just leave them alone and hide out in the library at her customary table. It was there that she'd started becoming friendly with Viktor Krum. He'd finally stopped with his disturbing stares, and had walked up to her Tuesday afternoon and asked for her name. Ever since then, she'd been sitting with him each time she was in the library. She had to admit, he was quite likeable, despite his stony demeanor and quiet attitude, but being around him seemed a bit like a chore. She had to speak both ends of the conversation to fill in the gaps Krum couldn't. Unlike him, Hermione was quite chatty and she liked to discuss things. Basically, all Krum did was sit there and watch her complete her homework before she almost had to talk to herself when in conversation with him.

Still, it was better than being completely ignored, because at least Krum _listened_ to her talk these days. He didn't have a lack of reaction – it was only the _way_ in which he responded that sort of ticked Hermione off.

By Thursday, her mood was extremely temperamental, but she managed to hide this from Harry, who was probably feeling much worse than she was, and wouldn't appreciate being brought down.

"_Brilliant_, Double Potions," Harry muttered to her as they walked through the throngs of students. Over the past few days, some Hufflepuffs, Slytherins or Ravenclaws had taken to purposely ramming into his shoulder, and now his blade was aching tremendously. "No, Hermione, I can't _ignore them_. D'you know how many times I've been called a dirty old cheat today?"

"You've got to try to put it out of your head either way!" she said. "I know it's hard. But you did so badly at Summoning Charms today that I'm getting incredibly worried."

"Yeah, you know why that's happening, don't you?" Harry grumbled as they noticed Cedric pass them, following by his band of simpering girls.

Harry shot Hermione a quick sideways glance, but she wasn't looking at Cedric. Instead, her eyes were focused very intently on a little rip in her schoolbag.

The Gryffindors reached the dungeons soon enough, with the Slytherins waiting for them. As Harry and Hermione got closer, they noticed that all the Slytherins had on very big badges with big scarlet words on them.

"They joined S.P.E.W.?" Harry asked her in disbelief. The pins looked very similar.

"No they didn't," Hermione's expression had turned very severe indeed.

Indeed, when Malfoy turned to face Harry, he was grinning with his badge reading **'Support CEDRIC DIGGORY – the REAL Hogwarts Champion'** in blood-red words.

"Like them, Potter? We've made loads," he sneered, his friends jeering Harry behind him. "Oh wait! There's more!"

He prodded at his own badge, and the crimson words dissolved into sickly lime green ones saying **'POTTER STINKS'**.

The Slytherins howled with laughter and the mocking continued. Harry felt like his face was going to explode from the heat that had rushed up his neck; nevertheless, he didn't say anything. He was provoked, but he couldn't risk Professor Snape walking up right then and catching him hexing his favourite student.

"Oh that's _very_ _charming_," Hermione said sardonically, throwing a dirty look at Pansy Parkinson and the sty of squealing pigs she called friends. They were all laughing the loudest. "Indeed, _very_ clever."

"Want one, Granger? Although don't touch me, I've just washed my hands. Wouldn't want a Mudblood dirtying them all over again," Malfoy derided.

That was the last straw. Harry whipped his wand out quicker than anybody could have noticed.

"Harry, don't," Hermione said quietly, obviously offended by Malfoy's statement, but trying to seem unfazed.

"That's right, Potter. Listen to Granger. Be a good boy," Malfoy babied. His voice then lowered dangerously, "Go ahead, Potter; do it if you dare. Moody's not here to protect you now, is he?"

"Harry, _don't_–" Hermione tugged on his arm. However, before she could say another word, the two had thrown a hex each.

"_Furnunculus!_"

"_Densaugeo!_"

Both spells missed their intended targets; Harry's hit Goyle, who stood next to Crabbe, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Great, big ugly boils was forming on Goyle's nose, which was turning a nasty shade of oroblanco green. Hermione screamed and clamped her hand over her mouth.

"'Mione!" Ron rushed forward and tried yanking her hand away to inspect.

What was revealed was honestly terrifying. Hermione's already-large front teeth were lengthening and she looked like a beaver. It was still growing as she tried to cover it up again, nearly in tears.

"_What_ is going on here?" Professor Snape had finally showed up. His voice was silky and cold and he didn't look at all angry. However, everybody knew that he meant business from his quiet tone. "Mr Malfoy, explain."

"Potter attacked me and-"

"You lying sack of-"

"Silence, Potter, I didn't ask you," Snape said frigidly.

Malfoy continued, "He cursed Goyle. Look!"

Goyle's face had become so calloused and bumpy that he looked like a disgusting green patch of fungus. Professor Snape did nothing more than say, "Hospital wing, Goyle."

"Professor, Malfoy hit Hermione too! Look and see for yourself!" Ron bellowed, wrenching Hermione's hand away from her mouth again.

Her teeth had extended to her collarbone and the sight of it made the Slytherin girls laugh harder than they had previously – if that was even possible.

"Did he now? I don't see any difference," Professor Snape remarked snidely.

Hermione whimpered slightly at his disgusting remark as more hilarity ensued from the Slytherins. She wouldn't be surprised if they started rolling around on the stone floor, clutching their stomachs. Even her Gryffindor counterparts were beginning to giggle slightly. She glared at all them through the tears that had welled up in her eyes, then at her teacher. Her face was bright red in humiliation as she took off running towards the hospital wing.

* * *

"Dear me, what happened to you?!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed in question as she saw a crying Hermione running into the hospital wing. "Good Merlin, who did this to you, girl?"

Obviously, Hermione couldn't say a word. Her teeth had grown all the way to her stomach area. She was lucky that nobody else was in the hospital wing. They would've laughed themselves into a coma. She suspected that Goyle lay recuperating on a bed opposite the one Madam Pomfrey showed her to; it was the only bed that had curtains pulled shut.

"All right, sit down here and let's have a look," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. She checked Hermione over, clucking her tongue behind her teeth in irritation. "Damn curses. Always giving students so much trouble. I'm going to have to ask Professor Flitwick what he teaches you people. Now listen, the shrinking process can take a little while. I'm going to have to do it bit by bit. I'll shrink it to about here-" she gestured at Hermione's collarbone, "-and leave it to rest for awhile before I go the whole way. I highly doubt you'll have to stay overnight though."

Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at Hermione's teeth, and a blue glow emitted from its tip. Hermione felt excruciating pain in her gums and she cried out.

"I'm sorry dear, but this is the only way to fix them," the Mediwitch rubbed Hermione's back, trying to soothe her. "But it's the same as the process of having bones regrown even if it takes a shorter time, I'm afraid. It can be very painful. That's the only reason I'm doing it slowly – any quicker and it'll be almost unbearable."

She carefully shrunk Hermione's teeth, and only when it had reduced to half its abnormal size did she stop.

"All right, you just rest here for a minute," Madam Pomfrey handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes – the pain had caused Hermione to tear up very badly. "I'll go check on that boy who came in with the boils all over his face."

Hermione simply nodded, lying back on the bed as Madam Pomfrey drew the curtains around her. Somehow, her entire head seemed to ache after whatever had been administered to her. She looked out the window and noticed that it had already gone dark.

She briefly wondered about how much trouble Harry was in. She knew that as Professor Snape was who he was, he wasn't going to let Harry go free without deducting at least a hundred points from Gryffindor and giving him detention. She shook her head slightly, closing her eyes. Even thinking made her mind throb.

Hermione was so tired from all her crying that she had almost drifted off into uneasy sleep when she heard someone ask permission to visit her. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, listening to see if she could decipher who this person was.

"Absolutely not. The girl needs rest and I am still not done curing her yet!" Madam Pomfrey was saying.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey, I won't take more than five minutes!" It was Cedric. Hermione silently begged for the Mediwitch to send him away. He couldn't look at her when she was in that state! She still had beaver teeth and couldn't even talk due to the way they hung out over her mouth.

"May I ask what relation you have with Miss Granger, Mr Diggory? I don't recall you ever visiting her during her previous stays in the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey stated suspiciously.

"I'm a new friend of hers! Please, Madam Pomfrey, just let me see her!"

"All right, all right, you may see her! Goodness, you'd think you'd _die_ if you didn't. You're going to wake up my other patient if you keep shouting at this rate. I give you five minutes and _five minutes only_, Mr Diggory. After which you must go."

"Thank you!" Cedric replied, sounding both grateful and relieved.

Hermione instinctively tried to cover her teeth with her hands. She lay back in an attempt to act natural, as though gripping her mouth was a pastime of hers. Before long, the turquoise hospital curtains drew back, and Cedric's worried face appeared before her.

"Hi," he said softly, coming around to the left of her bed and sitting on the edge of it. On impulse, she moved slightly away from him, eyeing him like a bird of prey. He ignored this, however. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything – she, of course, couldn't. Her hands were still closed tightly around her mouth and teeth. Wasn't it obvious that she wasn't exactly very chipper?

Cedric tapped his foot nervously as he spoke, "I-I heard about what happened between you, Potter and Malfoy. And Goyle or whatever his name is. News spreads very fast."

Hermione simply stared at him, although her eyes were droopy with tiredness.

"You can't talk?"

She nodded.

"Oh, all right, you can use this," Cedric pulled out some parchment, a quill and ink from his pocket. When she looked at him questioningly, he smiled and replied, "I figured as much when word got around that he hexed you with _Densaugeo_."

Hermione took the items from him, dipped the quill tip into the inkwell and wrote, _'Then there was no need to ask if I could speak or not. And people found out about it so quickly?'_

"Yeah. At Hogwarts, absolutely nothing's a secret," Cedric laughed slightly. Then he stopped, looking at her for a second or two before saying, "You can let me look at you, you know. You don't have to cover it up. It looks like it takes too much effort than necessary."

Hermione felt her ears and neck burn. _'You don't want to see how ridiculous I look.'_

"Come on. If it's that large, everyone _would_ be a sight. It's okay, you can relax."

Cedric continued to poke and prod her about it until she finally relented, dropping her hands to reveal nearly sabertooth-like front teeth. She looked close to tears of embarrassment when Cedric soothingly stroked her forearm, hushing her.

"You don't look as bad as you think!"

'_Come off it, Cedric Diggory. You're a bad liar,'_ came her note.

"I'm not lying!" Cedric gave her a genuine smile, stroking her arm comfortingly. "Really."

Hermione shook her head and changed the subject. _'What are you doing here anyway? I heard Colin Creevey running up and down shouting for champions to meet for a photocall or something.'_

"It's over already. Bloody nightmare it was, though."

'_Then shouldn't you be in the Great Hall having dinner? Won't your friends wonder where you've snuck off to?'_

"I had to come see you," he said. "Just to know Malfoy didn't do anything worse than this. My friends won't interrogate me about the times I go missing, I'm sure. And who even cares if they ask me where I went?"

Hermione didn't write anything for a moment. She just sat looking at her hands. She wanted to tell Cedric that she felt he would simply cover up his trip to see her with some other story – just so he wouldn't have to associate himself with her. Of course, she didn't want to put herself out to be some paranoid pessimist, so she didn't say that.

Instead, she avoided his question, writing, _'But aren't you hungry? I don't want to hold you up from dinner. I mean, you have to eat you know.'_

He didn't comment on her evasion as he answered. "Merlin, you sound like my _mother_. I'll eat later, once Madam Pomfrey rushes me out the door," Cedric chuckled. "I intend to use up my five minutes good and proper, thank you very much. And I mean to do that by talking to you."

The smallest hint of a smile creased Hermione's face. _'Well, it's not as if we can actually converse right now. But I can say I miss talking to you.'_

"We _are_ talking! We're having a chat, aren't we?" he said. "And… I miss talking to you too. To be honest, I miss actually talking about stuff that has nothing to do with me. I just get bombarded questions about, y'know, being popular and the Tournament and that's about it. Plus, everything's been really hectic. Things have caught up with me lately. I know I probably behaved like a cold prat all week, and I'm sorry for it," Cedric apologised. _At least he knew of his own character,_ Hermione thought.

'_It's all right. I think I'll find it somewhere in my heart to forgive you. Someday,'_ she wrote, realising how dumb it looked in scribe.

"Now, that doesn't sound as dramatic on paper," he snickered as she tried to pout, but her attempts were not fruitful. She smacked him on the arm.

"All right, Mr Diggory, I've given you _seven_ minutes here with Miss Granger, so OUT! NOW!" Madam Pomfrey had appeared behind him, her finger pointed to the door of the hospital wing and her expression not unlike an angry pit bull.

"Okay, okay! Don't bite my head off," he remarked smartly, earning him a hit on the head with the handheld mirror Madam Pomfrey had. He rubbed the spot she'd struck and gave Hermione one last smile and wave before walking off, dodging another hit and laughing softly to himself as Madam Pomfrey shook her head at him. Hermione heard the heavy doors thud shut dully. She was glad her mood had brightened considerably since the beginning of the day, although the little balloon of happiness that slowly rose up in her deflated slightly at the sight of Madam Pomfrey's wand.

"Right then," she said when Cedric had gone. "Let's finish this. I'll shrink your teeth, but watch them in the mirror. When they're back to their original size, tell me to stop."

Hermione sighed and nodded in response, forcing herself to look at her reflection as the cobalt glow surrounded her teeth once more and she felt her free hand clench into a fist, her fingernails digging savagely into her palm at the agony.

* * *

**A/N:** Another very difficult chapter to write out. It's why I took so long (in my opinion) =/ In between, I got incredibly distracted too. Oh well, at least it came out okay I think – not amazing, but it'll have to do. I hope you all like it anyway :)

Right now, I just want to say a huge, huge **THANK YOU **to everyone who's been keeping up with the story, reviewing practically every chapter without fail. I can't say this enough, but the stuff you write really makes me smile so much. When I reached 30 reviews, I squealed. Really :) _Thank you._


	7. Chapter Seven

"Cedric, please, just _one_ photo-!"

"Just sign my bag _please_-!"

"Cedric-!"

"I'm sorry… but _NO_!" Cedric slammed the door to the boys' lavatory shut. He leant against the door to catch his breath, and he was glad that there wasn't anybody else in bathroom. He could still hear the nattering of the girls out in the corridor, but after awhile, the noise died down.

Goodness, he couldn't get away from them! Walking over to the sink, Cedric stood slumped over it, eyeing his own reflection in the mirror resentfully. He wasn't usually this way. He was a 'glass half-full' type of person; positive and definitely not one to lose his temper. He was normally nice to the people who took to flocking around him, but that night, he'd finally abandoned good conduct. He reasoned with himself that it was only been a matter of time before he would snap. He just didn't picture himself hiding out in the boys' bathroom when it happened. He was supposed to be on Prefect duty, but those girls had managed to tail him so much that he hardly did any work. He'd instead wasted time trying to convince them to get lost. Whatever thought he had of hanging out with his friends after he finished duty was cut off. These days, he was always so busy. When he wasn't in the dormitories catching up on sleep, he was completing his various mounds of homework.

Cedric hardly got the chance to properly hang out with his friends outside of the dormitory these days. He was always, _always_ flanked but simpering girls. A good, _quiet_ game of wizards' chess in the Common Room was never an option after Halloween night, when he'd been picked as Hogwarts champion. These days, Cedric was openly chased by people of _every_ House. In addition, those disgusting 'Support CEDRIC DIGGORY' badges were shoved in his face so many times a day he felt that he would strangle the next person who asked him why he never wore one.

Cedric splashed his face with a little water and when he was absolutely sure the coast was indeed clear outside, he exited the lavatory quietly and started his Prefect rounds. He was going to be chopped to pieces by the Head Boy if he didn't – it was already five to ten and he was supposed to begin rounds nearly half an hour ago. Too bad he'd spent about twenty minutes being followed by students.

Earlier than night – way before dinner and definitely _way_ before his little escape from his adoring fan base – Cedric had gone to see Hermione in the hospital wing. He'd felt bad for not speaking to her ever since becoming Hogwarts champion, and had gone to apologise, but he realised how ridiculous he must have sounded. He didn't even think that his apology was very graciously accepted. He probably sounded like a chump anyway. However, he was surprised to realise that he didn't care. When he was around Hermione, he didn't care to be "pretty boy Diggory". He would rather be _anything_ but "pretty boy Diggory" around her.

Most of the other girls didn't care about his wit or knowledge; they were in it for his face and popularity, and nothing more. Honest Cedric always overpowered modest Cedric, allowing him to admit that he _was_ in fact good-looking. Nevertheless, he hated how he was never credited among the student body as something with more than just dashing looks. In fact, he sometimes wished he was ugly by conventional standards. Half the time, girls never listened to what he was saying – they just gazed at him. He rolled his eyes at the thought. But Hermione… Not only did she _listen_, she rebuked him. She had a brain of her own and wasn't scared to use it.

Near the end of his rounds, Cedric passed by the hospital wing a second time. The door was ajar, and he had the fleeting thought of entering to see Hermione again. He decided against it though; convincing Madam Pomfrey to let him see her at this late hour was highly difficult. No doubt the Mediwitch would be very suspicious of his intentions. He was about to turn the bend and strode towards the Head Boy's office to hand in report when he heard someone call out from behind him.

"Cedric?"

He was surprised at how quick he recognised the voice as he spun around; just to be sure. "Hermione? What are you doing out here this late? You're supposed to be in _there_."

He pointed towards the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey said I didn't need to stay the night after she fixed my teeth," she said, smiling to show him her newly-shrunk front teeth. "I didn't think I wanted to anyway; the beds there aren't very comfortable."

_She's got such a nice smile,_ Cedric thought.

"Want me to walk you back to your Common Room?" he found himself asking without much forethought.

Hermione shook her head, "No, it's all right. I can go by myself. Thanks anyway. Goodnight."

Surprisingly, Cedric felt a bit disappointed at her simple and small rejection. He watched her as she skipped off, disappearing beyond another wall towards the dormitories.

"Goodnight," he whispered to the dimness.

* * *

Hermione's conscience scolded herself. Why on earth did she go and make herself seen anyway? Cedric was a _Prefect_ for Merlin's sake! He could've gotten her sent straight to her Head of House for punishment. At least, that was what he should've done if he'd been following protocol anyway. But he didn't do anything about it; he'd even offered to escort her back to the Tower. As much as she wanted to have his company, she refused.

_Rejecting him once in awhile might do him some good, _she found herself thinking.

Was it just her imagination, or did he seem saddened when she'd said no? Hermione shrugged it off though; she didn't stick around long enough to be bothered by it anyway. She had turned on her heel and walked off to the Gryffindor Tower quickly, trying her best to avoid being seen by the prowling Filch or even worse, Mrs Norris.

* * *

She didn't seek out Cedric for awhile after their short encounter that night. Hermione wasn't _truly_ avoiding him; the simple fact was that life had finally caught up with her. She found the amount of workload she had required her to spend countless hours in the library, and she simply felt more compelled to help Harry.

_If Cedric really wants to see me, he'd find me on his own,_ she decided.

The day after Hermione's stint in the hospital wing, Harry filled her in on Sirius' letter ("How on _earth_ is he going to get into the Common Room?" she'd asked suspiciously) and together, they tried to think of a semi-foolproof plan to get rid of straggling Gryffindors in the Common Room on the twenty-second. However, when Rita Skeeter's lead story on the Triwizard Tournament surfaced via the _Daily Prophet_, they found it difficult to concentrate on anything _but_ the editorial at hand. It wasn't so much of a report as it was a gossip piece, and about four-fifths of it was dedicated to Harry. Fleur's and Krum's names had been squeezed in at the very last sentence and were even misspelt, and Cedric was completely left out of the picture. Among the 'highlights' of the article were the mentions of Harry's uncontrollable tear ducts (he'd apparently admitted that "_…sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it…_") and his ostensible romantic relationship with Hermione ("Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts…is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger…").

"This woman is _outrageous_. How can she churn out all this _crap_ about you?" Hermione had nearly shrieked when she'd finished reading the article. Harry was surprised that she didn't at all express any worry or displeasure about herself being mentioned, but he had a feeling she was only keeping it in for his sake.

Throughout the day of publication and the subsequent week and a half, numerous students from every House except Gryffindor had scorned him. Malfoy was probably having the time of his life with his Slytherin cronies, howling with laughter every time they passed Harry in the corridors between lessons. Of course, Hermione wasn't let off the hook. Pansy Parkinson and her friends were being a worse nightmare than they'd ever been.

"_Ignore it_, Harry," Hermione would tell him in a decorous tone. "Just ignore it and they'll stop."

But they didn't. Harry even had a go at Cho Chang for telling him he'd dropped his quill; he'd thought she was someone else coming to make fun of him. He was under so much stress and Hermione wasn't helping at all every time she mentioned Ron.

"And when on earth are you going to start talking to Ronald again?" she would ask him. "Come on; just admit that you _miss_ him!"

"I'm not saying _anything_ to the prat," Harry always growled back before abruptly changing the subject. That wasn't to say that he_ didn't_ miss Ron, though.

Hermione would then shake her head in disapproval before reprimanding him on how horrible his Summoning Charms were, dragging him off to the library.

* * *

Very soon, the Saturday before the first task had arrived and students third year and older were permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione was busy persuading Harry to go, although he'd virtually agreed right when she'd suggested it.

"It'd be better if you went," she told Harry gently. "Getting out of the castle would help your nerves a little."

"I'm wearing my Cloak, though. Can't stand those people staring and laughing much longer," he said. "And I thought you were going with Ron anyway."

"I…" Hermione hesitated, causing Harry to narrow his eyes at her in suspicion. "Oh all right. I thought we'd meet him at the Three Broomsticks."

"Hell no," Harry said flatly.

"Harry, you're just being plain silly…"

"I said _no_."

"Fine!" Hermione said in an exasperated tone. "We won't go meet Ron then! Now will you come?"

"All right, but I'm still wearing my Cloak."

"_Harry_!"

Finally, after a bit more arguing, Hermione waited for Harry in the Common Room while he went upstairs to put on the Invisibility Cloak. She had no idea that he'd come down and he had to tap her shoulder to indicate that they could leave. She jumped slightly before glaring at the empty space over her shoulder. Together, they crossed the portrait hole to the crowded corridor.

"Goodness, I hate talking to you while you're under that thing. I can never know if I'm looking at you or not," Hermione complained softly. "So where do you want to visit first?"

"Honeydukes, I suppose," Harry mumbled, quickly shifting left and right to avoid knocking into people. It didn't half make him feel like he was a ghost – the kind in Muggle movies of course.

At the Entrance Hall, Hermione and an invisible Harry ran into Cedric and his gang, who stopped them. Alfie Stebbins was Cedric's only friend who didn't snicker at the sight of the bushy-haired Gryffindor. He didn't look too happy to see his best friend talking to Harry Potter's supposed girlfriend though. The other boys were less kind.

"Is _Potter_ taking you to Madam Puddifoot's, Granger? He expects you to walk there yourself, doesn't he? Didn't expect more than that," they howled. "So what does Potter see in you, Granger? What else is there to you? Are you his _chariot_ or something?"

More laughter ensued, and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep himself from shouting vulgarities where he was, and he was surprised at Hermione's relatively collected response. She just scowled at them, folding her arms across her chest in aggravation.

"Guys, _stop_ it, you're worse than first years," Cedric groaned; he really looked annoyed at them. He reached over to whack Spencer Summers hard across the head for performing rather obscene gestures using a very stoic Alfie as a representation.

He then took Hermione aside. "Sorry about that. My friends, they're…" Cedric trailed off, seemingly unable to categorise their level of offensiveness. He shook his head somewhat and asked, "Going to Hogsmeade alone?"

Hermione was quiet for a few moments, although by the way her shoulders heaved up and down, it was clear that she was angry. "Why do you even _bother_ asking? As if you really cared? Because if you did, you wouldn't just say 'sorry' and think it's okay that way."

Harry was taken aback by her response. She wasn't only angry. Her relatively calm demeanor had been a mask of different emotions; a shell that was falling apart right there. Hermione's voice was thick and it sounded like she was about to cry.

It was clear that Cedric was altogether shocked by her reaction too. "Hermione, I-"

"Why do you even _bother_ talking to me at all?!" she nearly screamed at him. It took a lot of her to keep her voice steady. "Am I some punch line out of a sick joke for you and your friends? Is that why you even inconvenienced yourself to go out of your way to speak to me?"

Harry felt like slinking away; he couldn't take hearing her sounding so angry; so rueful. In fact, she hadn't sounded this infuriated in a long time.

"You know what, don't even bloody answer that! Just know that your apologies don't cut it. At all. Not last night's, not the one you just spouted right now," Hermione's voice had gone so low she was barely audible.

Without saying another word, she pushed past him and disappeared into the crowd of students headed for Hogsmeade.

* * *

Harry only found her waiting for him outside Honeydukes when he had managed to get to the village himself. It was much more difficult to travel in a large group of people when you were invisible and in danger of knocking into everyone. However, when he'd caught up with her, he felt his stomach clench. Hermione's cheeks her tinged a blotchy red and her eyes were bloodshot.

"Hey," he murmured. He tapped her shoulder, trying to get her attention. She didn't even flinch this time.

"Come on," was all she said as she pushed open the door of the sweetshop.

They spent about half an hour looking through the candies and sweets, eventually leaving eating enormous creamy nougats. Harry had tried to make her laugh the whole time they were in there, but it was far more difficult to do it, him being invisible after all. She remained quiet throughout, only occasionally forcing a smile in his direction. He even thought for a fleeting moment that he would take off his Invisibility Cloak just to make her a bit happier, although he decided against it in the end. He knew that just being seen with her would be a bigger trigger for people to make fun of them than huge neon sign.

Harry was ten times more relieved at his decision not to remove his Cloak when they stepped out of Honeydukes and started down the street. As they passed the Three Broomsticks, he noticed Rita Skeeter exiting the small pub with one of her photographer friends. He ducked to get out of the way of her crocodile-skin handbag. Harry saw Hermione's frame tense as Rita passed her, although the reporter barely even glanced at her. Instead, she was speaking to the photographer in whispers.

"Why don't we go inside for a drink?" Hermione finally asked him in a hushed tone once Rita had moved on further down High Street. "It's a bit cold out. I could really use a Butterbeer right now."

Harry didn't respond for a moment, which made Hermione sigh. "And you don't have to talk to Ron either, if you don't want to."

"Okay then."

Both students entered the Three Broomsticks, which was filled with Hogwarts students, as well as creatures such as hags. Harry maneuvered through the crowd towards an empty table in a corner, careful not to trip on anybody's feet or to bump into things. He spotted Ron with Fred, George and their friend Lee Jordan at a table close by and it took everything in him not to walk right over to give Ron and good, hard poke in the head.

Hermione went over to the table shortly afterwards with their drinks in hand. She slid Harry's Butterbeer under the Invisibility Cloak before opening hers to take a sip.

"God, I look a real sight," she muttered, busying herself to check inside her book bag, "sitting alone. Good thing I've brought something to do."

Harry noticed that Hermione had extracted her S.P.E.W. notebook from her bag, but after a few minutes, she still hadn't opened it. She was just sitting there, staring at the cover.

"D'you want to talk about what happened earlier?" Harry leant over and whispered.

"Not really."

"It'll make you feel better. Really."

He saw Hermione squeeze her eyes shut and take in a shaky breath. However, he didn't push her. He was about ready to murder Diggory at that point; or at least, he'd bloody him up a little. And yes, it was back to calling him 'Diggory'. There was no longer a need to be on first name terms.

"He is such an arse," Hermione managed to breathe out after a short while.

"What'd he do?" Harry asked tenderly, discreetly reaching out a hand from under the Cloak to grasp hers and give it a squeeze under the table.

"He expects that I'll just accept any utterance of 'sorry' he throws at me."

Harry was genuinely scared that Hermione would start crying again. He was never good with anybody who cried. Thankfully, she held her tears back.

"And," she continued, "he went to visit me last night when I was in the hospital wing. Again, he just says sorry. I don't even know how much he means it now. I accepted his apologies the first couple of times, but if he's just going to keep doing it, I'm not sure I'm okay with that."

"You have to tell him," the words left the confines of Harry's lips before he had a chance to think. Still, he wouldn't take it back.

"And exactly how do you expect me to do that?" Hermione threw a sharp glance in his direction. "No, I'm not going to go find him just for this."

"You know what you sound like?" Harry asked her, amused. He saw her look at him in curiosity. "Ron and I. Oh yes, you do! You can't deny that fact."

"Well, then _you_ don't have much room to give me advice," Hermione was surprised to find a smile crease her face.

"I'd have thought it was easier for you to go talk to Diggory though," Harry murmured. "It's not as though you've been friends for ages."

"It's just…" she trailed off, almost unsure of how to continue. She seemed to choose her words carefully. "I just feel like I've known him my whole life. Or at least, I'd want to know him for that long. We have things in common, Harry, even if it seems unlikely."

Harry didn't answer her right away; he didn't really know _how_ to reply. He'd never sat down to properly think of why Hermione fancied hanging around the Hufflepuff. Of course, he'd certainly wondered why, but he didn't bother to truly decode any theories he had.

"What kind of things?" he was curious, though.

"We both love Transfiguration and Charms for one. Another would be wizard politics – I can't possibly talk to him about Muggle ones. _Cedric_ likes to read, _I_ like the read… we have a few of the same hobbies out of books too, like camping. I think our only real diverse difference would be how he likes Quidditch and I don't. Well, I don't like the _flying_ part."

"So you feel you can have an intelligent conversation with him, and not with Ron or me?" Harry's question came out more harshly than he'd intended.

"Harry, don't take it like that," Hermione griped. "It's not that I find you less intelligent. It's just you don't hold interest in things I really like; Cedric does. It doesn't mean I like him more. I mean, at this moment, I very much hate his guts."

Harry smiled, although Hermione couldn't see it. She could hear it in his voice, though. "I suppose you're right. As always, you little _know-it-all_."

She huffed a little indignantly, but didn't stay ruffled for very long. Harry slipped his hand out of hers and they both stood to leave the pub. On the way out, Harry spotted Hagrid with Professor Moody. He waved for awhile, before realising he couldn't be seen. Yet, Professor Moody's fake eye swivelled in his direction and stared right at him for a few moments before he turned up to whisper something to Hagrid, who made his way over.

_Can Moody see me through this?_ Harry thought, a bit alarmed.

"'Ello, Hermione!" Hagrid greeted cheerfully, throwing in a small wink in Harry's direction.

"That's a nice Cloak you've got there, Potter," Moody had somehow come up behind Harry. His sudden mutter startled him.

"Y-you can see me- I mean, your eye-" Harry stuttered.

"'Course I can. It's a handy thing too."

"Hey Harry?" Hagrid had bent down to pretend to read Hermione's S.P.E.W. book. "Meet me tonight at me cabin at midnight, all right? Bring your Cloak."

Before Harry could respond, his two professors were heading out the door.

"What did he want?" Hermione asked as subtly as possible.

"I'll tell you later," Harry replied. He'd spotted Cedric and his crew enter the pub soon after Hagrid's and Professor Moody's departure. "Let's just get out of here."

Hermione realised exactly what he meant and pushed her way through the crowd, praying that she wouldn't be noticed by the Hufflepuff gang. Luckily, she wasn't and once she was out on the snow-covered path, she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Hagrid wants me to meet him at his hut at midnight," Harry told her as they began to trek back down High Street. "I wonder what for."

"As do I," Hermione looked sceptical. "I really don't think you should go though, Harry. You could end up late for your meeting with…you know. _Sirius_."

She added the last word in such an undertone that it was as though she hadn't said anything at all; just mouthed it.

"I know, 'Mione. But at the same time, I'm curious."

Hermione didn't seem to believe that was a good enough excuse to go wandering around on the grounds that late at night, but bit back her protest. They both remained silent as they continued to trudge through the snow.

* * *

After returning from Hogsmeade with Harry, Hermione went straight up to her dormitory and climbed into bed, drawing the curtains around her. She needed space alone to think.

'_I think I'll find it somewhere in my heart to forgive you. Someday.'_ That was the last thing she'd wrote in response to Cedric the previous night. How much did she _really_ mean that?

Hermione lay on her side, curling herself up into a foetal position and tucking her head beneath her arm. She closed her eyes; she felt so exhausted.

_I'm tired of thinking so much,_ she realised. _'Someday' is not today. It won't be tomorrow and it sure as hell won't be Tuesday the twenty-fifth. I don't know how long it'll take, but right now, I just have to get away from him._

* * *

**A/N:** I think my chapters are shortening. Hm... In the beginning, when I first started penning this chapter, I made Hermione a real softie. But then I thought about it – she's always been a softie! It's okay for her to lose her cool sometimes. Plus, like I said in review replies, Cedric needs some arse-kicking.

I don't normally write the story in a Cedric-centred POV, but decided to try it this time so his character feels a bit more developed. I mean, so far, we've only seen what really goes on in Hermione's head, not really anything of Cedric. At least, that's what I felt.

I hope you enjoyed it, and do review if you wish :)


	8. Chapter Eight

When Cedric chose not to go down to the Great Hall for dinner Saturday night after his trip to Hogsmeade, his friends attributed this to pre-Tournament jitters. The real reason, of course, was far, far away from the troubles of battling the unknown and probably plummeting to his death. Instead, his preoccupation sat in the form of a bushy-haired Gryffindor, and the words she'd spoken to him that very afternoon in the Entrance Hall.

"_Why do you even _bother_ asking? As if you really cared? Because if you did, you wouldn't just say 'sorry' and think it's okay that way."_

So Hermione didn't want to accept a simple sorry. Well, Cedric could clearly see where this came from. Despite the amiability that Hufflepuff seemed to portray to the general public, they got fiercely loyal when they wanted to be, and that loyalty could come out in terrible ways. The side of Hufflepuff nobody knew or liked to know about was their outright brashness once they took offence. They could sometimes be compared to Gryffindor, if the latter wasn't brazen _all the time_ and if Hufflepuff wasn't so _nice_; Hufflepuffs preferred to sort things out by speaking calmly while Gryffindors liked blunt and sometimes violent confrontation in the name of their beliefs.

"_Why do you even bother talking to me at all?! Am I some punch line out of a sick joke for you and your friends? Is that why you even inconvenienced yourself to go out of your way to speak to me?"_

Hermione had the impression Cedric spoke about her in a bad light to his friends? It was on the contrary. He expressly told them to shut their mouths, but of course, there was only so much you could without resorting to hexes, and he didn't want to upset his friends anyway. He knew they wouldn't accept her, unless she did something beyond their imagination, such as save his life or something.

Of course, they wouldn't understand his friendship with Hermione even if he explained that she _had_ in fact rescued him – from himself. He had been turning into a zombie by the looks of things, until he started talking to her and started to realise there was somebody who loved the things he did; that there was somebody he could relate to on such a level. For someone her age, she was surprisingly articulate and headstrong.

Then there was that article in the _Prophet _a little while ago… It was still weighing on his mind. Cedric couldn't help but ask himself whether it was true. I mean, they _did_ interview Colin Creevey, one of Harry Potter's most loyal supporters. Hermione _did_ spend a lot of time with Harry these days; it was like they were joined at the hip or something and they rarely went anywhere without each other. Cedric suddenly had a huge urge to know what on earth went on between the pair, even though he knew he probably didn't have the right to ask.

Frustrated, he smothered himself with his pillow and let out a long, loud yell. He had to find _some_ way to try to get over his stress. As much as he tried to steer his thoughts away from Hermione, he couldn't. He wasn't going to lie and say her comments didn't sting. Cedric had always been soft-hearted anyway. That was his late mother's assessment of him, but it still remained true. He was shouting so loudly that he didn't hear the dormitory door open.

"Ced, I heard you from top of the stairs," Alfie's voice interrupted Cedric's bellowing session. "You forgot to 'Muffliato' this place?"

"I don't particularly care if I 'Muffliato' our sett at the moment," Cedric drawled from beneath his pillow.

"A bit short today, aren't you? Mate, you really _are_ stressed!" Alfie declared.

Cedric grabbed the pillow from his face and tossed it at his roommate, sitting up. He looked annoyed. "Thanks for stating the bloody obvious."

"You're very welcome. Anyway, got a bit of news that might cheer you up a bit," Alfie's normally impassive expression turned roguish. It almost reminded Cedric of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"And what might that be?"

"Cho's here to see you!"

Cedric let out a groan and flopped back onto his bed.

"How can you be upset to see your girlfriend?"

"Who told you she was my girlfriend?"

"Ced, in case you didn't notice, nobody needs to tell anybody she's your girlfriend," Alfie laughed, that mischievous Cheshire cat grin still dancing across his lips. "It's common knowledge now. At least, to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws it is!"

Cedric groaned again, making Alfie drop his cheeky expression.

"Seriously, Cedric, what's the matter with you?" These days, nobody ever called him 'Cedric' unless they were annoyed or worried. "You've been in a right state since after that thing at Entrance Hall this afternoon. It's not _still_ bothering you, is it? It's _Granger_ we're talking about. She'll get over it. In fact, I just saw her chumming up with Viktor Krum in the library after dinner when I dropped in to pick up a book for Transfigurations. She definitely didn't look depressed to me."

Cedric sat up and stared at Alfie. "Viktor _Krum_?"

"The one and only, Ced. You're as surprised as I am about this, aren't you?"

_Now she's getting friendly with the best Seeker in the world,_ Cedric began to panic a bit, and he didn't even know why. First Harry, then Krum… This felt like a surge of jealousy, but what for?

Deciding it was best to change the subject, Cedric shook his head and turned on his side. "Tell Cho I've gone to bed."

"But Ced-"

"Oh just bloody do it."

Now, Alfie knew he had to shut up. He'd never really seen his best friend so fierce or heard him sound so final. The only exception was during Quidditch practice – it was when he made up his mind. Nodding his head briefly, he made his way out of the dormitory again.

* * *

Sunday turned out to be uneventful. Cedric spent the morning trying to corner Hermione in order to speak to her, but she'd somehow found a way to dodge him very well. He found her with Harry in the library, surprisingly reading books on dragons. He also spotted Krum in a crook, half hidden behind a pile of books and glancing sullenly at Harry and Hermione every few minutes.

_Don't tell me he's jealous too,_ Cedric found himself thinking as he dourly exited the library. He actually slapped himself when he realised what he'd just thought. Still, he didn't really know why he was still denying anything. So he wanted some of her attention – was that really so embarrassing to admit?

Well, it would be if he went right up to her and blurted it out.

Monday morning soon rolled around and Cedric forced himself to keep thinking of Tuesday's task – it was a surefire method to help him forget about his problems with Hermione for awhile. Also, he _needed_ to worry about the task. If he didn't build the good kind of stress in him, he was bound to fall apart the next day.

It was difficult to keep that in mind, however. From the moment he stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast, his eyes kept subliminally drifting over to the Gryffindor table. _Keep your mind on the goal,_ he told himself, compellingly making his thought train detour.

He hated how no information of the task was revealed to the champions beforehand. He also despised how all of the others looked ridiculously calm about it, which meant that they knew something he didn't. Krum was uninterestedly picking away at the large breakfast of bacon and sausage that Karkaroff had piled onto his plate. Fleur was gingerly plucking pieces off a baguette and daintily eating. Harry was ignoring his plate entirely, deep in conversation with Hermione…

"Hi Cedric."

_Oh Merlin,_ he found himself thinking as he turned eyes towards the pretty, black-haired Ravenclaw standing before him, twisting her hands together. When he finally looked at her, her expression brightened and she plopped herself into the seat across his.

"Hi Cho." It felt a little artificial, but Cedric kept his smile plastered on his face nonetheless.

Cedric thought briefly about asking her outright what she wanted, but upon realising how rude that sounded, decided to clamp his mouth over his forkful of beans instead.

"I wanted to see you last night, but Alfie said you were already in bed when I went to look for you. Were you really that tired? It was only nine-thirty when I got to the Hufflepuff Common Room."

"Uh, yeah, I was," Cedric replied uncomfortably, shovelling porridge into his mouth next to avoid speaking.

"You even missed Prefect duty."

"Yeah, and I'll get killed for it too."

He'd to force himself to laugh. He honestly didn't feel like smiling much.

"I'm sure Williams won't _kill_ you…"

_Oh really, well then maybe I'll kill myself,_ Cedric wanted to ram his head into a wall as Cho continued to talk, even though he couldn't hear what she was saying. Why the hell was he behaving like this? He shouldn't be; for the sake of everything around him, he had to be optimistic.

_Or do I?_

"Cedric?" Cho's voice sliced through his thoughts. She didn't look cross; just a bit impatient. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, I, uh-"

She sighed. "Never mind. I'll see you around, Ced."

Then she stood and walked back to the Ravenclaw, and sat amongst her friends who began whispering to one another. Cedric felt like he was going to implode, and he slammed his forehead on the tops of his palms in aggravation.

* * *

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione hastily buttered herself some toast at breakfast. "I'm sure we'll be able to find out how to deal with your dragon. I know we hardly got any work done yesterday, but we still have today! Now eat up."

"Hermione, I-" Harry opened his mouth to protest as she piled bacon and eggs onto his plate and gave him a pointed look. He sighed in resignation and took a bite of breakfast, no matter how much he desired to spit it back out. He just felt very sick.

They continued to eat in silence, and each time Harry swallowed, it felt like he was downing rocks rather than bacon. His nerves were really getting him wound up.

When they finished and got up to leave for Herbology, Harry noticed Cedric stand up from the Hufflepuff table, following his friends out of the Great Hall. Then it dawned on him that Cedric didn't know about what the first task really was. Half of Harry didn't want to tell Cedric at all – probably a little payback for what he did to Hermione – and yet the other half of him knew that it simply wasn't reasonable for anybody to dive into it without any information.

"'Mione, you go on to the greenhouses, I'll catch up," he bent down to tell her.

She was stuffing her books in her bag and didn't look up at him. "But Harry, you'll be late-"

"It's okay; I said I'll catch up."

He didn't wait for her to protest any more before he sprinted after Cedric. Although Cedric was already at the top landing of the stone steps when Harry reached its foot, the latter managed to catch up. Noticing Cedric's friends to be the same ones that teased Hermione at Entrance Hall, Harry held himself a little way back as he walked up after them. Seeing them turn the corridor, an idea struck him. Extracting his wand from his robe pocket, Harry aimed directly at Cedric's school bag.

"_Diffindo_!"

It did the exact effect he was hoping for. Immediately, the bag split open, and books, parchment, ink and quills toppled out. Ink bottles of various colours smashed upon impact with the floor, drenching and staining pages. Harry smiled at his handiwork and waited for the opportune moment.

* * *

"Damn!" Cedric muttered as all his belongings tumbled to the floor from the abnormally large rip in his bag. He'd just gotten the carrier too, and it was hardly used, so that was bizarre. He bent down and began retrieving everything, thoroughly annoyed that his four-foot-long Charms essay had been completely blotched with navy ink. Spencer, Alfie and another friend, Caleb Jeffrey, all bent to help him.

"No, no, it's all right," he waved his friends away irritably, "you guys go on in. Tell Flitwick I'll be there in a minute."

Soon, the hallway emptied except for Cedric softly cursing his luck as he scooped up his books. He didn't notice Harry rush up towards him until he started to stand, his arms full. A book slipped from his grasp and he fumbled, but Harry got to it first, handing it back only when Cedric had regained his balance.

"Oh, hi," he greeted awkwardly. "And thanks for that."

"Cedric," Harry said brusquely, "the first task is dragons."

"C-come again?" Cedric didn't think he heard it right.

Harry looked at him exasperatedly. "Dragons. That's our first task. They've got four of them – one for each of us – and we're supposed to get past them."

He said all this very quickly as he stole glances at Professor Flitwick's classroom door. He was obviously worried that the little Charms professor would overhear any part of their conversation and quickly turn them in to the authorities.

_Dragons?_ Cedric's brain didn't really want to register it. "Are you sure?"

"Damn it, Cedric, of course I'm sure! I've seen them!" Harry said urgently.

"But we're not supposed to know-"

"Never mind that right now! We're not the only ones that know anyway; Krum and Fleur probably already do too. Maxime and Karkaroff would have told them by now," Harry said tensely.

_Books on dragons,_ Cedric remembered, feeling oddly stupid that he hadn't caught on earlier. Even Krum had several books on dragons when he was doing his reading in the corner. He really _was_ in a world of his own.

"So why are you telling me this for?" he couldn't help but ask.

If it was possible to, Harry would have looked even more annoyed than he already was. "It's just…fair, y'know? Shouldn't _you_ know all about fairness?"

"All right, all right; it was just a question," Cedric held his hand up. "A bit touchy, Potter."

"Yeah, and it's your bloody fault," Harry mumbled under his breath but Cedric heard him.

"Excuse me?" By then, Cedric had clearly forgotten that he was supposed to be in class. However, right then, he didn't really care. He looked a bit angry. "What did I do to you?"

"When you insult my friends, you insult me," Harry said simply. _Let's hope he's smart enough to catch on to that, _he thought bitterly.

Instantly, Cedric's irate expression vanished. He started to nervously shuffle his feet and stare around him. "How'd you know about that?"

"She's my best friend, Diggory; she tells me things," Harry snapped.

"Is she _just_ your friend then?" It just slipped out before Cedric had any chance to control himself.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"All that stuff in the _Prophet_. That Skeeter article. Is all that true?"

"Why are you suddenly talking about that? Why do you _care_?" Harry asked, growing more and more incensed. "Look, I've got to get to class. You might want to do the same-"

Cedric reached out an arm (dropping his quills and ink on the floor again in the process) and grabbed Harry's shoulder roughly. "You didn't answer my question, Potter."

"Mr Diggory, are you coming in or would you like me to send you away?" Professor Flitwick interrupted, brandishing his wand crossly. "And Mr Potter, don't _you_ have lessons to attend?"

"Sorry, professor," Cedric replied heavily, diffidently letting go of Harry and picking up his things again. "See you around, Potter."

"Yeah, see you," Harry was almost fuming. "Goodbye, Professor Flitwick."

Then, he heard the familiar dull clunks of Professor Moody's wooden leg fill the hallway. Last Cedric saw of Harry, he was walking with the loony professor to his office.

* * *

_Where _is_ he?_ Hermione wondered as she pruned her Flutterby Bush with Ron and Justin Finch-Fletchley. She watched as Professor Sprout restlessly checked her watch, no doubt planning to give Harry detention if he was any later.

To her relief, Harry burst through the door seconds later, all the while uttering apologies to the highly ruffled Herbology professor. He hurried over to where Hermione was. Upon seeing him, she tried to move so that he would be right in front of Ron, who'd taken particular interest in talking to Ernie Macmillan on his left side; however, Harry grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"'Mione, I need your help."

"Well, haven't you noticed I've been trying to do that the past couple of days?" she asked a bit curtly. She then noticed his worried expression. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Hermione could hear hushed chatter begin all around them. She was fully aware that the class was probably gossiping about her and Harry again, but she really couldn't care less.

"I need to master the Summoning Charm by tomorrow," Harry dodged the pair of clippers Ron had tossed him. They clanged noisily on the ground and he scrambled to pick them up. This merited a few sniggers from the Hufflepuff half of the group. "I _have_ to. I'll tell you why later."

Hermione nodded rapidly, although her hopes weren't entirely high. She knew Harry was on the edge of his nerves and it was probably the reason he was doing so badly at the Charm. However, at the rate he went, it would be nearly impossible for him to _master_ it by the next afternoon in time for the task. Of course, she mentioned none of this as she went back to trying to force Ron and Harry to speak to each other. Her attempts were once again in vain. After Herbology, they all walked back to the castle from the greenhouses to have lunch.

"Hermione? Where are you going?" Ron asked her as she and Harry turned onto another corridor away from the Great Hall.

"I have to help Harry prepare for tomorrow," she replied, and she felt her stomach churn at Ron's scowl.

"You've been helping him an awful lot lately, 'Mione."

"Of course I have. Well, why wouldn't I? He's a _friend_ after all. Like he's _your_ friend…"

"Hermione, drop it," Harry said in an undertone.

Ron looked ready to retort, until he noticed Hermione was no longer looking at him. He turned around and came face to face with Cedric. Well, almost; although Ron was a tall one, he was only up to Cedric's shoulders. He then turned back to glare at Hermione.

Hermione suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable; three boys were all staring at her expectantly. She was very thankful that there was no crowd forming; everyone was already in the Great Hall having lunch.

Realising nobody was going to say anything, Cedric opened his mouth, "Hermione-"

"Oi, git, I wasn't done talking to her yet!" Ron sputtered, as though he'd just remembered he had a voice.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "Don't call strangers names like that!"

Cedric was a little surprised that Hermione would have come to his defence, but he took this as his chance to say something. "Exactly." he turned back to Hermione and started to talk again.

"And _you_! Shut up! Nobody asked you to speak!" she yelled at Cedric, taking him by surprise. "Good Merlin, I'm sick of you both! Come on, Harry. Unlike _some_ people who spend all day arguing, _we_ have work to do."

She grabbed his arm and dragged him off down the corridor, all the while muttering to herself. She could just picture both Ron and Cedric staring at them from the grand double doors of the Great Hall. The more she thought about them, the more she became infuriated.

"_Always_ expects me to have it their way-"

"'Mione-"

"-don't know _what_ on earth they think they deserve from me-"

Harry was stumbling along behind Hermione, and her grip was really doing his arm in. "Hermione-"

"-_can't_ even imagine what they'd do to me if I was lenient just one more time-" she practically threw him into the free classroom and almost jinxed Peeves – who'd been scribbling obscenities on the blackboard – into oblivion due to her anger. She was _still_ complaining to herself after that, and that was when Harry'd had enough.

"Hermione, SHUT UP!" Harry yelled as he regained his balance. At least that caught her attention.

"Oh, sorry Harry," she apologised, although she still looked quite angry. "I'm just so mad!"

"I know; it's annoying, those two," Harry agreed. "But let's just get this done, okay? I don't have that much time."

Thus, they began to practice the Charm. They practiced it so many times until Harry felt his brain begin to ache. He still didn't get the hang of it and he was getting increasingly anxious.

"I want to skip Divination and continue-"

"Fat hope if you expect me to forego Arithmancy though," Hermione frowned. "We'll have to work on this after dinner. We can go back to the dormitories after we eat to fetch the Invisibility Cloak."

"I thought you didn't like me wearing it."

"We'll both be wearing it, Harry. We can't risk anybody catching us if we go back to the Common Room too late tonight."

Ron, as Harry soon found out when he arrived at the top of the Divination Tower, was absolutely livid at him even though he chose not to say anything. Harry himself ignored Ron, in fact, although the heavy perfumes and ominous warnings of Professor Trelawney's lesson didn't do him much good. Rather than listen, he spent her lesson practicing the Summoning Charm a little bit more.

"I hate that woman," he complained to Hermione after he'd managed to trudge into the Great Hall after class. It felt as though his limbs weren't working right.

"You should have dropped that ghastly subject when you had the chance," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Now eat, Harry, we didn't get to have lunch- what on earth is your problem, Ron?"

Ron had been gazing resentfully at the pair ever since they'd sat down. He seemed to want to say something rude, but kept it to himself anyway. "Nothing," he simply murmured, although every once in awhile, they caught him giving them that same odious stare. This made dinner highly uncomfortable, and Harry was very glad to wolf down his potatoes and leave for the Gryffindor Tower to retrieve his Cloak. He headed out with Hermione again, catching sight of Cedric just before he left. He looked quite similar to Ron in terms of expression.

_Do they all still believe that dratted article?_ Harry wondered. The slow realisation almost killed him. Nausea plagued him at the thought of Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill and those rimmed glasses. This was all her fault.

Nevertheless, he tried to put it to the back of his mind as he and Hermione snuck out of the Gryffindor Tower again with the Cloak thrown over themselves, walking cautiously back to the empty classroom.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay! Chapter Eight! It's uh…well, it's not quite like I had planned *scratches chin* Just a heads' up, I'll essentially be away until Saturday and probably won't upload Chapter Nine until at least Monday, so yup, not a quick update after this. This chapter is honestly so effing short that I could punch myself, but this really the boring sequence and I wanted to get it out ASAP. I honestly think I'll do a rewrite sometime though.

As always, if you want to review, it's greatly appreciated :) You have no idea how stoked I am that this story has reached 50 reviews. Seriously, thank you all!


	9. Chapter Nine

"Harry, you've got to eat something. You barely had breakfast this morning and you'll need your strength," Hermione gently pushed a spoonful of stew at Harry, who just looked away. The afternoon of the first task had finally come. He appeared terribly pale, and she attributed this to his tension. Not that Hermione blamed him; if it'd been her going to battle dragons, she wouldn't know what on earth to do. Still, she continued to push him to eat.

"_Hermione_, I'm just…not hungry, okay?" Harry finally said, as calmly as his voice would let him. His morning had flown past far too quickly for his liking. He was trying to savour the remainder of his precious, dragon-free time. He savagely stabbed a piece of pork chop in hopes to relieving some of the nerves he was experiencing, although it really didn't do much.

"Oh, _Harry_-"

"Potter," Professor McGonagall interrupted, "come with me. All the champions have to prepare for the first task."

She sounded a little different that day. It was one of the few times she looked anything other than the strict exclamation mark she usually portrayed. In fact, Professor McGonagall looked very worried.

"Professor, can I go with Harry?" Hermione stood from her seat the same moment Harry did.

"Miss Granger, the rules state-"

"_Please_, Professor."

Harry didn't really want Hermione following him, although he didn't say this. He understood her concern, but at the same time, didn't think it would be very helpful to _his_ mental strain if she tagged along to mollycoddle him. However, Professor McGonagall agreed to her request, and Harry had to suppress the look of dismay as the three of them marched out of the Great Hall.

"What about Weasley-"

"He won't want to come," Harry said automatically. The Gryffindor Head of House eyed him oddly for a few moments before continuing the journey to the grounds in silence. Every once in awhile, she would sneak glances his way, with the pretence of wanting to burst into tears. This abnormal behaviour was starting to scrupulously scare Harry.

They walked out of the castle and headed for the Forbidden Forest. Harry felt a huge lump form in his throat as Hermione gripped his forearm hard with both her hands; her cold breath came out in little puffs and she looked thoroughly frightened at the simple prospect of nearing the forest. She bore an expression of horrible imagination; it was as though she could picture the dragons roaring and breathing fire from beyond the thin bark. Following the dirt path down the slopes, it became clear to Harry that they were nearing the area in which he'd first witnessed the foul creatures. They turned abruptly and a tent came into view. It was right behind the enclosure where the task would be taking place, right beside a copse of trees.

"All right, Potter," Professor McGonagall's voice shook slightly, and Harry knew it could not be from the cold air, "just remember to keep your head on. We have trained wizards and witches surveying the task and should anything get out of hand, we will be able to subdue the situation immediately. Miss Granger, I think you don't have to accompany Potter further-"

"Professor, can I at least see him inside?" Hermione squeaked. She looked very green and she was fidgeting with her gloves.

_Does she really have that little confidence in me?_ Harry couldn't help but wonder. _If she did, she wouldn't be _this_ nervous, would she?_

However, as though it was a huge revelation of sorts, Harry suddenly had the forethought that maybe she wasn't simply there to see _him_ and wish _him_ good luck. The image of a tall, brown-haired Hufflepuff came to mind and he felt a surge of annoyance bubble up in him, as much as he fought to shove it down.

"Oh very well," Professor McGonagall was being exceptionally nice that day. "But you must leave straight away when Ludo Bagman gets here to explain the task. Merlin, where _is_ he?"

Muttering to herself, she left them both at the entrance to the tent. She kept stealing glances back at Harry, though. Harry and Hermione stood at the opening, and when the latter started to head inside first, Harry grabbed her arm quickly.

"Are you here to see Diggory too?" he asked Hermione harshly.

She didn't reply right away, but Harry guessed her response.

"I thought you were upset with him," he mumbled.

"It doesn't mean I don't care about him. He can't be much better off than you. You only told him about the dragons yesterday. Gosh, I feel so stupid and selfish. It's been like this since _ages_ ago."

"Why?"

"Because _I_ could've warned him earlier!" Harry suddenly realised that Hermione seemed close to tears. "But I was angry at him and it just slipped my mind. Harry, you have no idea how guilty I feel."

Harry didn't know what to say. He really had no idea why Hermione still cared about Cedric that much. He didn't think it was fair. She couldn't play both ends of the field; it just wasn't possible.

"Oh Harry, it's not like I care for you any less!" However, Hermione being Hermione, she read his mind right away. "Don't start this again; not now. I'm worried for you _both_, okay?"

She held the tent flap open for him after that, refusing to say any more that could make their argument escalate. Harry's expression didn't soften, but he didn't press the matter; he didn't want to dwell on it much either, so he accepted her explanation for what it was for the time being.

Once inside, he noticed Fleur Delacour sitting in a corner. Although her hair and clothes were at the peak of neatness and composure, her panicky expression and compulsive hand-wringing gave her away immediately. She was white as a sheet and perspiration shone on her pale skin like light reflected by a smooth mirror. She didn't look at Harry or Hermione as they entered the tent; she just stared into space. In another corner, Viktor Krum sat looking much more churlish than he normally did with his gaze to floor. He looked up at the sudden shift at the tent entrance and noticed Harry, before shifting to Hermione. He gaped at them for a few moments before dropping his stare to the hardened mud beneath him once more. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for him too; she knew that he was more nervous than he dared show. Those sessions in the library with him were a bit fruitful.

Her eyes then went towards Cedric, who was dressed in his yellow and black Quidditch attire, pacing. He looked incredibly nauseous. Like Krum, his eyes turned to see who'd entered the tent. When they fell upon hers, she observed that they seemed devoid of any emotion except probable fear. He didn't stay gazing at her for long, though.

_I hope he's not still angry with me,_ Hermione thought, remembering the embarrassing incident that occurred outside the Great Hall just the day before. She never did wait for his reaction to her little outburst – she just assumed he would be furious by her embarrassing him. Speaking with him now and wishing him the best of luck seemed entirely awkward. Still, she wanted to talk to him and as Harry started his own routine pacing, she walked up to Cedric.

"Hi," she said in a small voice.

He'd stopped walking back and forth by then. Instead, he took to leaning against a pillar that supported the tent. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Professor McGonagall gave me permission."

Cedric didn't answer her, nor did he look up at her. She didn't really know what it meant, so she tried to speak again.

"S-so how are you?"

"And you care because?" he finally showed a sign that he was indeed upset with her. Hermione felt her stomach clench at his intonation. She was glad that he spoke softly, but it didn't make her feel any less self-conscious.

"Because…" Should she say it? Sometimes she wondered how much of it held true. She certainly was angry with him for treating her differently around his friends. She wasn't letting him off for what he did, but she also knew that the last thing he needed right then was for her to lecture him. She was seriously frightened for him.

"Because you're my friend and…and I'm worried about you," Hermione whispered, her voice coming out shakier than she'd intended. It'd occurred to her once again that Cedric would be facing a dragon, and the chances of him coming out alive… she didn't want to think about that. She noticed him tense up at her mention of 'friend', though.

However, when he still lacked reaction, she grew more desperate. "Look, this is probably the worst possible time and place to say this, but I'm sorry I've been such a brat. I _really_ do care about you and that's why I'm here. It's not just for Harry, whatever you choose to believe."

Hermione swallowed with much difficulty. She'd said her piece; now, it just depended on whether or not he wanted to accept it.

She didn't have time to wait for his response, for Ludo Bagman had gathered all the champions together. He wasn't disapproving of her presence, but he did kindly ask her to leave so he could reveal the task to the four participants. Hermione walked up to Harry and gave his arm a final squeeze.

"You'll be fine, okay, Harry?" she whispered to him, although he could practically feel her heart pounding at her fingertips through her gloves. "Just…stay focused. Remember the charm, and _concentrate_. With any luck, you'll succeed."

"Yeah," Harry replied absently. Hermione hesitated for a moment, but flung her arms around his neck in one last tight hug before she was lightly shooed from the tent by Mr Bagman. She tried to steal a glance at Cedric as she left, but he didn't look up her way at all.

* * *

The tension in Cedric's body and mind was too extreme for him to think of anything else as he heard Hermione rush out of the tent, her footsteps light and quick as she headed for the dragon enclosure. He hadn't meant to snap at her; he was just angry at himself for being so ill-prepared. In all honesty, he found it massively hard to ingest Hermione's apology when all he could think about was the fact that he had to rely completely on his wit and wand to battle a large dragon. Cedric couldn't help but feel the rush of jealousy flow through his veins when he'd witness her embrace Harry and not him.

He tried to push away all other thoughts as the rules of the first task were explained to the four champions. So he had to collect a golden egg from a dragon. Undoubtedly, it would be female, and it would be harder for him – he remembered reading passages in some books that dragons were fiercely protective of anything that was theirs, particularly if the protectors were female ones. They would do anything to make sure their chattels were kept safe.

When Mr Bagman finally thrust the purple silk sack containing the miniature dragon models at him, Cedric felt himself numbly reach into it, only to pull out the Swedish Short-Snout. It had a little 'one' numbered on its back and he felt the queasiness he'd already been experiencing creep up him at a much quicker pace. He felt as though he was about to pass out. He was so fretful that he'd barely heard Mr Bagman's instruction to wait for the whistle before he was to enter the arena.

Soon enough, pacing just didn't seem to work anymore. Cedric felt the need to run around to relieve himself from his anxiety, and was oddly pleased when he finally heard the whistle Mr Bagman was talking about. He passed Harry as he exited the tent, who muttered something that vaguely sounded like "good luck". At least he knew whatever animosity they'd had with one another was gone for the moment.

Loud cheering almost burst Cedric's eardrums as he entered the showground. The blinding sunshine made it near impossible for him to see. He found himself searching the stands and gazing around the rocky terrain, trying to familiarise himself with the new setting; everybody looked so different from down below and he knew the ground was difficult to run on. However, he barely had time to think for no sooner had he stepped into the enclosure did he come face to face with his dragon.

In hindsight, it would've been a real beauty, its blueish-grey tint catching the sunlight like plate steel and its scales forming over its body in an intricate pattern. As it moved, the scales followed it in ripples and waves that could only be described as delicate. Conversely, from where he stood, it was difficult to appreciate the true exquisiteness of the Swedish Short-Snout for it had aimed its tail at him, swinging it hard. Cedric was lucky he had a knack for running quickly.

"Ooh! That was a close one indeed!" Mr Bagman's hearty voice rang throughout the stadium, although Cedric tried not to take notice. For a few minutes he just ran from the creature, even though he knew that he looked a pathetic sight.

_Use magic,_ he told himself. _You have your damned wand; you might as well use it!_

But his wand arm didn't seem to want to work. Dodging another attack from the Short-Snout's spiky tail, he hid behind a boulder to catch his breath. This was completely out of his league. The perspiration that had begun to soak the neck of his Quidditch uniform made him increasingly uncomfortable as he continued to run, willing his mind to remember spells and incantations he'd learnt from class. Ludo Bagman's commentary did not do much to help, for it bore into his mind, drilling knowledge out.

"Oh, this one's a risk-taker, Barty! Look at him! He's just buying time! _Oh_, another narrow escape!"

_Ignore him,_ Cedric told himself as he dived into the small valley created by two large rocks, trying to put his cloak out, which had caught fire. _Concentrate._

When he finally cast his first spell, it seemed to have no effect on the Snort-Snout. Swearing under his breath, he darted away from the flames it spat at him.

"It's a pity that didn't work! It was a clever spell though!" Mr Bagman's commentary was driving Cedric up the wall, but he tried to focus.

_Skills, skills, skills,_ he told himself. _Use your skills. Transfigure things. Go, go, go!_

He continued to cast spell after spell, trying to transfigure rocks around him to suitable decoys, but in his panic, he couldn't do most of them right and they all backfired on him. Finally, as he neared the golden egg, he managed to turn one particularly big boulder into a large dog that resembled a wolf and it distracted the dragon long enough for him to get his egg. Unfortunately for Cedric, he came off with some pretty serious burns as the dragon realised that it'd been tricked and tried to return to defending its stash. He collapsed in the pile of eggs (although he broke none) as about fifteen witches and wizards rushed into the enclosure to control the Short-Snout. His face felt as though it was still on fire, in more ways than one.

The roar of the crowd was once again deafening, and Cedric found himself near unable to stand up. A few Mediwitches had to help him as he limped over to the first-aid tent, but he couldn't keep the grin from his face much longer as he looked down at the golden egg he was grasping. _He'd done it._

* * *

From the stands, Hermione thought that she would have had a heart attack simply watching Cedric fight off his dragon. He didn't take very long to work out what he was supposed to do, but she was still on the edge of her seat anyway. She'd bit her lip so hard that it'd ripped and was currently bleeding. She'd also gnawed at her right index and middle fingers till both had deep teeth marks on them. When she saw that he'd finally gotten the egg, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. The fact that he was burnt made her want to rush to the first-aid tent immediately to see how he was, but she also knew that she had to watch Harry. Hermione then returned to biting her fingers; her anxiety was far from gone.

* * *

Luckily for her, Harry got away relatively unscathed. He was also the quickest to get his egg from the dragon – a Hungarian Horntail even. It looked like a vicious thing. Hermione had tears in her eyes just watching the chase. She had a feeling that Harry took the entire ordeal like a Quidditch match, with the golden egg acting as the Snitch…

She rushed down the stands as quickly as she could, ignoring Ron's shouts for her to slow down. Practically bulldozing everybody in her path, she finally arrived at the first-aid tent, bursting in at once. It looked like an outdoor version of the hospital wing. Between each bed there was a divider made of turquoise cloth.

"Harry!" she shrieked, noticing him grinning from the nearest bed. Madam Pomfrey was at work mending his shoulder, with a grim expression painted over her face as she muttered darkly to herself about the approval of having dangerous creatures on school grounds. "Harry, are you all right? You were _fantastic_!"

"Thanks to you I was," Harry said softly, although his eyes had shifted to whoever was behind Hermione. She turned and noticed Ron, who looked pale with shock.

"You've got to be barking mad to put your name into that Goblet, Harry," he said abruptly, his mouth hanging open as though he still couldn't comprehend what'd he'd just seen.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, that took you long enough to figure out," he said sarcastically.

Ron seemed to struggle with whatever he was about to say next. It seemed to take every single ounce of his being to utter a simple "sorry", so much so that Harry stopped him.

"It's all right. Really, you don't have to say anything."

"Merlin, Harry, I shouldn't've been such a-"

"Just forget it, okay?"

Harry grinned weakly in an attempt to convince Ron, who beamed back anyway to show that all was well. Hermione looked from boy to boy in disbelief before bursting into uncontrollable tears.

"'Mione!" Ron groaned.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry shouted over her loud sobs, bemused. He patted her shoulder gingerly in a futile crack at consoling her.

"It's just…_ARGH_! Boys are so _stupid_!" she said, frustrated. She folded her arms and stomped her foot. She did resign to give both her best friends a big bear hug before leaving them to chat up one another, though.

Hermione still couldn't believe that despite everything that had happened the past few weeks, an act of contrition wasn't even necessary between Ron and Harry. She rolled her eyes at the thought before remembering that she was also there to see someone else. Walking two beds down, passing both Fleur and Krum, she finally came to Cedric's bed. He lay there with bright orange paste thickly applied over his burns, although he looked high as a kite.

"Hi," she mumbled when he came into view, starting to feel like she was losing her voice.

"Hey." Well, at least he responded to her now.

Hermione couldn't think of much else to say except for, "T-that was very w-well done. Congratulations."

"Um, thanks."

_Gosh, this is the most ridiculous conversation I've had in awhile,_ she thought. She really didn't know what else to say. Surprisingly, she didn't have to speak at all, for Cedric beat her to it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it doesn't make much of a difference since I'm always saying sorry, but I really mean it."

She was taken aback by his forwardness. He'd even looked her directly in the eye when he spoke.

"Did you rehearse that little speech?" she couldn't help but ask, although it wasn't to sound rude. In fact, she tried to sound light-hearted. Much to her relief, Cedric caught on and laughed slightly.

"Nah, but I _have_ been thinking about what you said. You know. At the Entrance Hall. I still don't really know what you mean though. Am I really that big of a prat?"

"Yeah, kind of," Hermione blurted out before covering her mouth with her hand. Cedric did nothing but raise his eyebrows at her, though, so she continued. "Sorry about that. But I was just fed up you treat me differently when you're around your friends. That's all."

"Are you still angry with me?"

"If I was, would I still be here?" she teased, settling herself at his bedside. "Well, okay, fine, I've not _totally_ forgiven you. Does it hurt?" she gestured to his burns, swiftly changing the subject.

"Well, why not _you_ give it a go? Try getting burnt by a dragon. I'll even do the honours and introduce you to mine," Cedric grinned cheekily, causing Hermione to smack his uninjured arm, a small smile creasing her face.

"Incorrigible."

"At least I'm no longer 'insufferable'. You've got a _wide_ vocabulary range."

"Shut it!" she laughed, feeling her cheeks tinge pink. At least they were back to normal again. _For now,_ she couldn't help but think. She still didn't fully trust him not to revert to avoiding her once his housemates stepped into the picture.

"Why are your eyes all puffy?"

"Oh…" Hermione didn't really want to explain the situation; in retrospect, it seemed ludicrous that she'd cried over her friends making up.

"Call this the aftermath of tears of frustration," she finally said airily. Cedric simply eyed her with a grin threatening to burst across his face, but he didn't say anything more.

Before long, Cedric had to go back to the champions' tent for a short meeting with Mr Bagman, and Hermione walked him there. She met Ron outside – he'd been catching up with Harry. Upon seeing her with Cedric though, his eyes hardened slightly. She couldn't help but notice Harry's do the same.

"That's where you were? Chumming up with Diggory?" Ron asked gruffly once Cedric walked in with Harry, Fleur and Krum.

"Ron, your powers of observation never fail to amaze me," Hermione rolled her eyes. "_Yes_, I was talking to Cedric. What's it to you?"

"He's the _rival_, 'Mione! Didn't people already talk about you and Harry before? What're they going to make of this now?"

Hermione said nothing; her eyes only icily flashed at his direction. However, in her heart, she knew that Ron – Merlin forbid – was right. She wouldn't be surprised if she saw her name printed in more copies of the _Daily Prophet_ multiple times. She attempted to forget about it, though, as both she and Ron waited for Harry to finish his debrief with Mr Bagman. When he finally emerged from the tent with his golden egg tucked under his arm, they strode up the dirt path to the Owlery – Harry had said he wanted to send an owl to Sirius informing him about the task and its turnout.

However, they were stopped by none other than Rita Skeeter, who'd popped out at them from behind a thicket of trees.

"That was very well-done, Harry!" she beamed at him, although there was a distinct glint in her eyes. "Mind if I had a word with you? About how you felt before facing off the dragons? How about after, when you realised the scores? Did you think the '4' Igor Karkaroff gave you was fair? What about Ludo Bagman's '10'? You _were_ injured after all… Hermione, _dear_, I didn't see you. How does it feel to be the girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived – in more ways than one? Must be an exhilarating relationship-"

Harry didn't wait for her to finish for he was fuming all over again. "_Goodbye_."

They continued walking down the winding path in silence, slipping and sliding as they went. They wanted to make sure Rita was out of earshot before they started talking again.

"Karkaroff gave you a '4'?" Hermione asked incredulously. "That's completely unfair! He gave Krum a-"

"'10', I know," Harry said as they climbed the steps up the Owlery. "Although I can't say I care very much. I'm just glad I got out of there alive."

They fell back to silence as Harry wrote a very long letter to Sirius. Then, Ron went to fetch Pigwidgeon, who was so excited about delivering a letter that he refused to stay still.

"I reckon you really stand a chance at winning this, though, Harry," Ron huffed as he fought to hold his owl steady; it was practically vibrating in his hands. He threw it out the window as soon as Harry had the note securely fastened on its little twig-like legs. "I doubt those tasks could get any worse than this."

"Ron, you can't gauge it that way," Hermione reprimanded. "These tasks could really get intensely and increasingly difficult over time. Something tells me that whatever's in that egg holds a clue that's far more difficult than this dragon business."

"_Wow_, Hermione, you really are Queen Optimism," Ron replied sardonically as they trudged their way back to the castle. "I mean this; you and Trelawney could be the best of friends."

All he earned himself was a slap across the back of his head.

They walked back up to the castle, heartily chatting as though the past few weeks hadn't happened. At least, until they were stopped by Cedric.

"Mind if I have a word?" he was talking to Harry.

For a brief moment, Harry thought of just rejecting the request – he had a feeling he knew what was to come. Still, he told his friends to go on back to the Gryffindor Common Room without him while he spoke to Cedric. Only when his friends were far enough to be out of earshot did he start to speak.

"What?" he didn't keep the thinness from his voice, though.

"You know what. You never answered my question from yesterday."

"What question?" Harry was simply playing dumb to avoid it, and he had a feeling Cedric knew. The former was never an amazing actor anyway.

"About Hermione. Are you, or aren't you?" Cedric's own tone was becoming short with irritation. "I saw you talking to Skeeter down by the woods. What'd you tell her?"

"I still don't see why you care so much. This is a really abrupt question to ask in the middle of a corridor, Diggory. Weren't you speaking to Hermione earlier? Couldn't you tell by that conversation with her if we 'were' or 'weren't'?" Harry was actually assuming that Hermione had gone to beat the living daylights out of Cedric for hurting her, although Cedric perceived it differently.

"No, I couldn't."

"Are you _that_ thick?"

He knew that he'd hit the right spot with that comment. If anybody ever saw Cedric Diggory angry, they'd make sure they didn't see that expression on his face ever again, because it was nasty. Harry, however, was always up for challenges. In his mind, if he could tackle a Hungarian Horntail in less than five minutes, he could deal with an angry Cedric.

"Just answer me straight, will you? I, like you, have places to be, but I want an answer all the same."

"Fine, then the answer's _yes_! Now will you leave her alone!?" Harry threw his arms up in frustration as he marched off down the corridor. It was only when he turned the bend and marched up to the Fat Lady did he realise how very wrong it was of him to say that.

Harry knew he shouldn't have lied; he really shouldn't have. As he leant against the portrait of the Fat Lady (with her screaming at him to get off her and just say the ruddy password), catching his breath, it dawned on him how horribly altering it was for not only him, but for Hermione as well. He could just imagine the look on her face when he revealed to her what he'd just done.

"_Oi_! Boy, are you going in or not!?" The Fat Lady had had enough.

"Sorry, Balderdash," Harry muttered.

Once inside, he noticed that it was pandemonium – but in a celebratory fashion. Mounds and mounds of food stacked up high and sets of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks were being set off, filling the Common Room with beautiful red and blue sparks. Dean Thomas had put his artistic skills to good use and created nice big banners for Harry. It made him strangely happy to see some of them with pictures of Cedric's head on fire.

"Dean shouldn't have done that," Hermione complained to him soon after he'd pointed them out to her. "I mean some people here actually _like_ Cedric."

"So don't look at the banners," Ron mumbled thickly through his mouthfuls of jam tarts and custard creams.

"You might want to be careful with those, Ron," Hermione said warily. "I heard Fred and George might've put spells on the custard creams…"

"Hermione, I need to speak with you about something," Harry murmured, poking his friend in the side to get her attention.

"_Now_? While everyone's celebrating?" she asked absently, trying to steal all the pastries that seemed jinxed.

"Yes, _now_," Harry dragged her off into a corner, away from the flagons of pumpkin juice and plates of chocolate-and-peanut-butter cakes.

"What is it, Harry?" At least she seemed to know something was amiss. She was properly looking at him now, with knitted brows and a frown on her face.

Harry hesitated for a minute. "I…did something wrong."

"_What do you mean by that?_" Hermione asked sharply.

"Okay, please don't kill me for this but…" he continued to fidget uncomfortably under her razor-sharp stare. Her eyes had narrowed by then, and she was almost glaring. "…ButItoldCedricwewereanitem."

Hermione shook her head slightly. "Speak clearly, Harry, I didn't understand a word you said after 'but'."

"I…I told Cedric the stuff in the _Prophet_ was true."

Harry braced himself for a vicious scolding, but didn't anticipate Hermione's true actions. She started throwing the pumpkin and meat pasties she had in her hand at him. He had to run from her, and the crowd laughed with gusto at it, obviously unaware of its true purpose.

"Harry – how – could – you – do – something – so – stupid!?" Hermione shrieked at him. With every word she spoke, she threw a pastry for emphasis.

"'Mione, stop wasting the food!" Ron complained from one end of the room.

Finally, Hermione had Harry cornered. Her hands were planted on her hips and she was panting from running after him; he was always faster than she ever was. However, she still looked menacing – very much like a ruffled Professor McGonagall.

"'Mione, I'm _sorry_!" Harry said in a pleading tone. "I didn't think, okay? You can really call me brainless for this."

"You're damn right that I have the authority to call you bird-brained, Harry," she said in a deathly low voice. "You fix this. I don't care how you do it, but you'd better fix it. I don't want Cedric going about getting the wrong idea. Besides, I thought you hated those articles. Why on earth did you go and _agree_ with them?"

"I only said it so he'd stop bugging you."

"Who ever said he was bugging me?!"

"He hangs around you too much! I was just trying to help!"

"_Help_?! You call this _help_?!" Hermione fought to keep her voice to a bare minimum. Even though the party was a loud affair, she didn't want to risk anybody overhearing what they were discussing. She stared at him in amazement. "Harry, what on earth is wrong with you? What's wrong with me hanging around Cedric? If you're going to bring up the fact that I was upset over what he said to me, don't bother. I'm not _that_ petty!"

Harry actually had the huge desire to contradict her statements by saying "but 'Mione, you _are_ that petty". However, he knew it would only cause him to lose a few limbs.

Instead, he just sheepishly said, "Oh. Sorry."

Hermione looked ready to explode. Her face was beet red, her hands were clenched into fists and she was shaking. Finally, she just chose to burst out, "_ARGH!_ Boys are so _stupid_!"

With that, she stomped her way up to her dormitory, letting the tears of fury roll down her cheeks once her back was turned.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally, a chapter I really like from start to finish! :D

I'm sure you all notice how I'm making Harry a little less-than-friendly to Cedric as compared to the books. Having them grin at each other all the time does nothing for tension, so this was the only way to go! And I'm taking some ideas from one of my reviewers, kag20, because the more I thought about it, the more hilarious the situation seemed to become if I did. I'm sorry if you didn't like it, but I find the idea thoroughly amusing, so I'm using it ;) Possessive Harry is fun to write. Yes, it's very AU, but come on, Cedric/Hermione _is_ AU, so don't get yourselves all knotted up over it :)

As always, reviews are thoroughly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter Ten

**THE DAILY PROPHET  
**

**POTTER DEFENDS LOVE OF HIS LIFE  
by Rita Skeeter**

_It really seems like the sky's the limit for Harry Potter, aged 14. The youngest Champion the Triwizard Tournament has seen in four centuries, Potter was the quickest to finish his first task, which included a heated chase with a merciless Hungarian Horntail. Attaining his prize in less than five minutes, Potter sceptics can bite their tongues._

_Indeed, it also seems that Potter is the man for every fair lady's heart. Flocks of young girls have been seen parading after the heartthrob with high hopes of him taking one of them to the much-anticipated Yule Ball – a traditional evening of frivolity and fraternity. However, girls may have to stop short in their tracks, for it is clear who holds Potter's heart in her hands. Spotted defending girlfriend Ms Hermione Granger's honour – albeit a little possessively – while in an animated argument with an unnamed Hogwarts student, he is definitely not one to mess with when it comes to his girl._

* * *

If anybody ever asked Harry what the toughest moment of his life had ever been, he would've answered with two vastly different situations for the sheer fact that he could not choose which was more difficult to resolve.

The first came in the form of his little white lie to Cedric. How Rita Skeeter found out about it was beyond him, but the article made his life even more hell than he thought was possible. Every single time he glanced Hermione's way and noticed her icy glare at him, he would remember his mistake. Nothing was a bigger reminder than the fact that people were starting to wolf-whistle at the two of them in the corridors between lessons. It was so overwhelming that Hermione didn't even want to walk next to him anymore, and they sparsely saw one another other than at mealtimes.

Admitting his humongous blunder was harder than it seemed, though. He would sound like a complete fool if he just waltzed right up to Cedric one day and went "well, I lied the other day about dating Hermione so you wouldn't hang around her so much". Who even lied about something like _that_? It just made him sound incredibly egotistical and would just prove how low Harry had sunk. No, there had to be a better way.

So he spent his days coming up with stories with Ron (confiding in Ron was much better these days; he tended to understand a bit more, although Harry suspected that it was because he was just trying to get back into Harry's good books). Spinning some ridiculous tale would've made a ton of difference. However, even after they put both their heads together to try to solve the quandary, all their ideas never seemed plausible.

It was during one of their brainstorming sessions did his second deadly problem occur. It all started when Professor McGonagall yelled at Ron and Harry at the _end_ of her lesson, which was terribly shocking, even in the strict teacher's class.

"Potter! Weasley!" she barked. "_Will you pay attention?!_"

They immediately fell silent. Professor McGonagall's shout was good enough to silence full arenas.

"Now, I have something to say to you all," she kept her eyes on both Harry and Ron for a moment, but soon returned to addressing the rest of her class. "A tradition of the Triwizard Tournament is approaching – The Yule Ball, to be precise. Its purpose is for students to bond with others from the two visiting schools. Only fourth-years and above are permitted to attend without partners, however should you wish to invite a younger student, that is allowed.

"Dress robes or similar are the appropriate garb for the night. The ball will commence at eight o'clock in the Great Hall on Christmas Day, and will end at midnight."

Professor McGonagall paused to check the reactions of her students. Most of them remained silent, except for Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were both giggling uncontrollably. Harry resisted the urge to call out unfairness – the girls weren't reprimanded for making a racket, while his and Ron's whisperings were caught on. He didn't have time to speak, however, as Professor McGonagall had opened her mouth again.

"Now I know that this ball sees as an outlet for students and teachers alike to…let down their hair," she sounded disdainful, "but I will _not_ have any pupil from the noble house of Godric Gryffindor defaming the school in any way, is that clear? We will _not_ lax on standards, and I would like you all to keep that in mind."

The bell rang soon after, and people began shuffling their things about, preparing to leave.

"Potter, I need a word with you," Professor McGonagall stopped Harry as he was about to walk out of the classroom.

"I'll wait for you outside then," Ron grumbled. He, like Harry, obviously thought that she was going to give him a lecture on talking in class.

Harry nodded before gloomily walking up to the teacher's desk at the front of the room.

"Now Potter, as you already know, the champions and their partners-"

"What partners?" Harry just _had_ to interrupt. He earned himself a hard stare from his Head of House.

"_Dance partners_, Potter. Don't try to be funny – this is serious business. By tradition, you and your dance partner are obliged to open the ball."

"B-but I don't dance," Harry protested. He could feel his face rapidly gaining heat.

"_It is tradition_," Professor McGonagall spoke coldly, as though it settled the matter. "Find yourself a partner, Potter, and if you don't know how to dance, I suggest you learn as soon as possible."

"B-but-"

One final glare from Professor McGonagall told Harry that there was no use trying to argue his way out of this one. It was do or die; he _had_ to find a partner no matter what lest Professor McGonagall skinned him alive.

* * *

"Well, that's just bloody murder," Ron said later that night at dinner. "What's Dumbledore getting at, making us have _dates_?"

"It's _tradition_," Harry reiterated what Professor McGonagall had said in an irritated voice. "Any idea who you'd like to ask?"

"No clue."

Just then, Hermione popped up before them, settling herself down in a seat across.

"Hello Ron, Harry," she greeted stiffly. The uncomfortable silence that followed was unnerving.

"Hermione, when will you just drop it?" Ron asked crassly. "Harry already said he was sorry."

Hermione looked scandalised. She furiously dropped her fork onto her plate, which made a deafening clang. However, her voice was very calm, "No, I won't 'just drop it', Ronald Weasley. Speaking of which, _Harry_, have you resolved the issue yet?"

"Er…" Harry suddenly felt himself go red again. "Well, not exactly…"

"Hermione, he's been really wound up over this Yule Ball nonsense-" Ron started.

"Shut up, Ron, Harry can speak for himself if he wants to," Hermione said frigidly. She fixed her stare at the top of Harry's head; his eyes were now gazing at his food with great intent.

"Look, 'Mione," he tried. "It's not that easy for me, okay? What am I supposed to tell him? 'I'm sorry, but I lied about going out with Hermione just so you'd stay away from her'? _You_ wouldn't say it, so why should I?"

"Because it's the truth!" Hermione sputtered, looking thoroughly offended. "You _are_ lying for a pathetic reason! I can't believe how selfish you're being, Harry. And not a word from you, Ron!"

Ron immediately shut his gaping mouth that seemed to want to interrupt.

"Selfish?" Harry glowered at Hermione. "'Mione, I'm just looking out for you. Is it a crime for me to want to look out for my best friend? And Diggory, you don't know what his true intentions are. What's in it for him?"

"Harry, all you have is assumptions," Hermione replied angrily, although her voice was constraint. "You've never actually gotten to know Cedric."

"And what, _you_ have?" Harry was having a much harder time controlling his temper. "When did you? How many meetings have you had up that tree then? Or anywhere else for that matter? There's that rumour going around that he likes to sneak girls into the Hufflepuff locker rooms, or even the Prefects' bathroom. He's not perfect, Hermione. Stop worshipping him as though he is."

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes. She never thought Harry would say something so horrible. Those afternoons of his understanding seemed eons away now.

"That just goes to show how shallow you are, Harry," she said simply as she abruptly stood up. "I'm not hungry."

She stalked off soon after. Only when she'd exited the Great Hall did she break into a run, letting the tears fall freely down her face.

* * *

Spending her days crying wasn't her favourite pastime, so Hermione started barricading herself in the library again. It was the one place she felt the safest, where the knowledge that there was always a new tome waiting to be read was a fortress. She still didn't have the courage to properly look Cedric in the eye ever since finding out of Harry's folly, and she'd avoided her two best friends for ages. Not that they took a lot of time to try to find her; they were probably busy finding dates for the stupid Yule Ball.

_I won't even get to go, most likely,_ she found herself thinking dejectedly on more than one occasion. _Who'd bother to ask me? Puffy-haired Hermione Granger with two left feet…_

Despite all her moping, Hermione was pleasantly surprised one day when Viktor Krum asked to study with her again. This continued for a few days. Having spent that much time in the library allowed her to connect with Viktor all over again; since she'd started helping Harry for the first task, she hadn't been able to talk to Viktor much. She was once again finding out about how genuine he could be, despite his frosty, rigid exterior.

During one particular session when she was preparing for her Potions test on antidotes with Viktor reading up on fifteenth century wizardry at their customary table, he suddenly tapped her hand for her attention. Glancing up from her notes, Hermione realised Viktor wore a strange look on his face.

"Herm-o-ninny," he'd never gotten her name right to begin with and no matter how she tried to correct him, it never seemed to work, "I know Harry has probably already asked you, but I just have to try. Vould…vould you like to go to the ball vith me?"

It was just plain weird to hear _Viktor Krum_ sound so nervous. It was as though he was pining after her approval. The question was also incredibly abrupt, although Hermione had the impression that he'd been rehearsing what he had said to her ages ago.

"Well, I…" she didn't know how to respond and blushed deeply. "I-I'd love to go with you!"

Viktor looked surprised. "So Harry has not asked? Funny, I thought he vould have."

"Er, why?"

"Is he not your boyfriend?"

_Merlin,_ Hermione cursed. She'd completely forgotten about the dratted rumour. That Skeeter article began to dance in her mind yet again. _I'm going to kill Harry._

"If you thought he was my boyfriend, why'd you ask me in the first place?" she mumbled, twisting the pleats in her skirt uncomfortably. "Not that he is," she quickly added. "That's just a nasty piece of gossip that I'd appreciate if you didn't believe."

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I like you, so I thought I'd ask." He made no remark about her defence on her relationship status with Harry.

_He likes me?_ Hermione's eyes flew wide open. _Likes me how?_

"Oh." That was all she could muster to say before she had to force herself to go back to studying.

"Have I upset you?" Viktor asked. He sounded terribly worried all of a sudden.

"Oh, no, definitely not," Hermione smiled slightly at him from the top of her notes, even reaching out to pat his hand. It must have reassured him somehow, for he went back to his reading too soon after.

In actuality, she hadn't felt so happy in days. She, _Hermione Granger_, was going to the Yule Ball with a world-class Quidditch player (although she didn't really care about Viktor's social status; she was just glad she was going at all); when it seemed thoroughly impossible for her in the first place. Throughout the night, she kept sneaking glances over her study material at him, only to catch him eyeing her too, making her duck back behind the pages, forcing her giggles back.

* * *

Hermione was on cloud nine the next few days. Even when Professor Snape snidely remarked on the texture of her antidote during her test, she didn't even bother to rebuke him with so much of a glare. She kept her date with Viktor a secret though – she was already the butt of jokes as it was. However, she _did_ tell one person; Ginny, who was absolutely thrilled for her.

"I'm so upset that I can't tell my brother about this!" she'd exclaimed. "The look on his face when he finds out! That'll be a moment worthy of Colin Creevey."

Surprisingly, as days went by, several boys came up to her and asked her to be their dates for the ball, including her housemate Neville Longbottom and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Hermione felt bad about turning some of them down. She would have thought of going with Neville if he'd asked earlier, though she distinctly remembered Terry Boot to be one of her and Harry's mockers and didn't feel at all sorry when she noticed his disappointed face at her plain 'no'.

On the last night of term, Hermione realised that both Harry and Ron weren't in the Great Hall during dinner, neither was Ginny. Eating quickly, she finished in ten minutes and walked out hurriedly. In her urgency, she didn't notice someone coming in the opposite direction and ran face first into him.

_Oh great,_ she thought as she straightened up, realising who it was. _Why do I keep running into him at inopportune moments?_

"Sorry," she mumbled, staring at her shoes.

"My face isn't down there, Hermione," Cedric said irritably. "If you're going to apologise, at least look at me properly."

Hermione felt annoyance bubble up inside of her. Nobody had the right to talk to her like that, even if they were angry with her for Merlin knew what reason. If anything, _she_ should be angry at _him_. He'd confronted Harry. If he'd just shut up and stop hypothesising (were all boys the same? Hermione had once thought. They all just seemed to presume more than they should), the newest Skeeter article wouldn't have basis.

"I highly doubt you can tell me much about contrition, Diggory," this was the first time she called him by simply his last name.

Hermione looked up at him defiantly and without another word, brushed past him. She made sure her shoulder impacted his arm with force.

She marched her way to the Gryffindor Tower and snapped the password at the Fat Lady ("What's gotten your panties all knotted up?" the portrait had asked drunkenly; she was having way too much eggnog too early). Upon entering the Common Room, she noticed Harry and Ron laughing heartily at something and her mood continued to sour.

"_Where_ were you two at dinner?" she asked harshly.

"I thought you were avoiding us," Harry replied through his laughter. He meant to sound short, but couldn't seem to.

"Oh quit it, you two," Ginny scolded. She slapped her brother hard on his arm. "They just got turned down by the girls they asked to the Yule Ball and came up here to brood. Although they seem to have gotten over their losses very quickly."

Both boys fell silent without delay.

"Gee, I owe you two presents for Christmas this year, Gin," Ron rolled his eyes. "Thanks a bloody lot."

Hermione looked at him smugly. "Oh what _shall_ you do now, Ron? Is Eloise Midgen's off-centre nose still a problem for you? But don't worry, I'm _sure_ there's someone in this school left for you. Who'd he ask anyway?" she turned to Ginny.

"Fleur Delacour."

Hermione simply raised her eyebrows. "And did she even reply?"

"How about _you_ then?" Ron shot back. "_You_ don't have a date, do you?"

"I'm not answering that."

"That's a no," Ron said triumphantly. "But hang on. You're a girl, aren't you?"

"I can't believe you even have the audacity to ask," Hermione said icily. "I'm glad you've spotted I've got the XX chromosome, thanks."

Ron scratched his head. "What'd she just say, Harry?"

"She's just happy you've noticed she's a girl, mate."

"Ah well, yes," Ron turned back to Hermione. "So you can go with one of us!"

Hermione felt her cheeks go hot. "I can't go with you, Ronald. Nor can I go with Harry. I've already been asked, and I've said yes!"

"Come off it!" Ron laughed. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"_Did_ I, then? How'd you know Neville asked me anyway?" she glowered. "Well, I'm sorry if your level of scrutiny is equivalent to that of a teaspoon, Ronald, but it doesn't take everybody else three years to notice I'm a girl!"

Ron paused to stare at her for a moment, before breaking out into a cheesy, Gilderoy-Lockhart-esque grin, "Fine, we know you're a girl, okay? Now will you go with one of us?"

"No, I won't," Hermione said simply, however her anger was apparent by then. "I'm already going with someone else."

She then stormed off towards the girls' dormitories, muttering to herself about the insensitivity of the male gender.

* * *

Cedric ate dinner slowly and almost mournfully. He'd taken Harry's advice to stay away from Hermione – the boy may be young, but he seemed fully committed. Instead, he'd focused a lot of his efforts on Cho. He'd even asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him and thankfully, she agreed to it.

Cho walked up to his table after she was done eating – amidst all the annoying whispers from her housemates – and sat across from him, planting her chin in her palms that were propped up by her elbows on the table. She watched him in silence while he chewed at a snail's pace. She couldn't see it, but it took every bit of his being to swallow without feeling like throwing up.

It wasn't because of Cho though; Cedric had his thoughts on Hermione once again. It seemed as though whenever he had nothing to weigh on his mind, he always thought about her. It felt a bit unhealthy, to be honest. It was like he was obsessed with her. His little unfortunate encounter with her was nothing short of embarrassing on his part, and he didn't know why he acted the way he did. He always felt defensive around her – like he longed to prove himself as strong-willed – although it came out all wrong.

After Cedric finished and got up to leave, Cho quickly stood too and accompanied him to the Hufflepuff Setts.

"You look a bit ill, Ced," she murmured as they walked down the narrow hall towards the kitchens, brushing some strands of his golden hair from his ice-coloured eyes. He didn't so much at flinch at the contact, despite it being sudden.

"Just a bit tired, I guess," he said. _"Extremely tired" would be a better phrase._

"You know, a funny thing happened today," Cho was obviously trying to be conversational; not that Cedric minded at that point – anything to keep his mind from Hermione was a good thing. "Harry Potter asked me to the Yule Ball."

Cedric stopped dead in his tracks. He quickly turned Cho to face him.

"What?" He probably sounded a bit too dangerous, because Cho suddenly looked a bit frightened of him. He tried to soften his features and the grip he had on her arm. "I-I mean, he did?"

"Yeah; it was sweet of him to ask me and all, but I turned him down, obviously. I mean, I'm going with you." She thought he was angry with her. Cedric loosened his grasp on her arm entirely and leaned against the stone wall behind him.

"Oh okay," he said absently. For a few moments, he just stood there. He almost forgot Cho was there, until he saw her staring at him expectantly.

"You can go, Cho, it's okay," Cedric gave her a small smile to try to encourage her.

"I'll walk you to the portrait hole. You still don't look so good-"

"_No_, Cho," he said firmly. "I'll-I'll be fine on my own. Thanks."

She looked at him for a few moments longer before nodding her head and turning to head to the Ravenclaw Tower. She kept stealing glances back at him as he walked in the opposite direction. He could feel her eyes on the back of his head until he finally turned the corner to the corridor where the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room was.

Cedric quickly descended the steps to the sixth-year sett and he was glad that he was the only one in the room when he got there. Without changing into his pyjamas, he jumped into bed and drew the curtains around the four-poster shut, leaning the base of his skull against the headboard and closing his eyes.

Harry had asked Cho? It was supposed to be common knowledge that he was going with Hermione, what was the kid playing at? He already had one girl, why should he have to go after another? Was it even just because of Cho, or was it something personal with Cedric?

Cedric wasn't normally egoistical or anything of the sort, but he couldn't help but feel paranoid. He'd gotten a straight answer from Harry that he and Hermione were an item, so he shouldn't even be dwelling on the situation any more than he had. Maybe he was being meddlesome to have asked, however he had to get an answer.

Maybe… he was just gullible and Harry had lied to him. Either way, he knew that he had to speak to Hermione herself; _if_ he could manage to without blowing his top, obviously. The girl made him incredibly frustrated.

It made Cedric wonder idly, though, about who Hermione was going with if it was true that Harry _hadn't_ asked her. He thought drily about _his_ own chances with her, even though he knew it wasn't possible; not after his rudeness to her anyway.

Slinking down to a curled foetal position, Cedric closed his eyes. He was exhausted, and it definitely wasn't physical. Hermione didn't make him just think, she made him analyse. She made him wrack his brains for answers he knew he would never have unless he asked her. The problem was he felt he didn't have the guts to anymore.

* * *

Christmas was drawing closer, and it was painfully obvious how excited everybody was about the Yule Ball. As classes had let out for the holidays, you couldn't find a nook or cranny free of students whispering; gossiping all hours of the day. Girls chattered more than usual about what colours they should wear, and boys groaned about how much dancing they anticipated they had to do.

Hermione was no different from every other girl, although she mostly talked to herself in her head. The Saturday before the ball, there was a Hogsmeade trip. She went on her own and bought a book on hair care, as well as shopped around for her friends' Christmas presents. She was a really awful shopper in general, but she managed to pick out some nice gifts in no time. However, after she finished all the 'necessary' shopping, she realised that she barely had any money left for her dress robes.

Hermione gazed at all the girls going in and out of Gladrags Wizardwear on High Street. The clothes there were stunningly beautiful and stylish, but they cost a lot more than Hermione could and would fork out. As much as she had eyed the striking emerald satin frock in the shop window, she knew she wouldn't be able to afford it. She didn't have much of an option to come back to get it the next weekend either.

_Minute by minute,_ she thought as she nervously glanced around her at the side streets. _There's always an alternative._

Her parents had taught her the wonders of second-hand shopping before, and the items they'd bought in charity shops were indeed quite nice in their own rights. Maybe there was something similar to a thrift store in Hogsmeade; _hopefully_ there was one, anyway.

Walking along one of the less eerie streets that veined off from the main road, Hermione realised how much of Hogsmeade she'd yet to see. All her past endeavors in the little village had centred mostly on High Street, where all her friends tended to stick to. Never had she taken the time to explore the rest of the parish, so she was glad that she was alone that day and had all the time in the world.

The particular street she was cruising upon strongly reminded her of the trip she had to Venice when she was a little girl; the red brick of the walls, the cobblestone pathway, the little flowerpots, the canopies above shop windows just brimming with snow…it was truly romantic and cosy despite the frost. Hermione walked pass a small, warm-looking café, a pawnbroker's and an old shoes shop before chancing upon a store that seemed to sell dress robes in varying shades and styles. The swinging wooden sign above the door read "Brenda Baroque's".

A little jingling bell alerted the shop of Hermione's presence. The store was illuminated by the warmth of candlelight, and little Christmas wreaths were pinned to the walls. A large embroidered mantle of Jolly Saint Nicholas hung at the back of the shop. Boxes piled high, and Hermione nearly stumbled upon a couple of stray ones that littered the floor. The place was cramped, and full of clothes; some even hung from the ceiling. From what she could tell, the outfits definitely weren't ancient, but some of them seemed to have gone out of fashion a few years ago.

"I'll be with you in just a minute!" a shrill voice called from behind a rack stuffed with clothes. "Sorry about the mess! Haven't had the time to really sort it all out; there's just too much."

The voice continued chattering on about bad store management as Hermione stood awkwardly at the door, looking around at the apparel for sale. Finally after a few minutes, a squat little woman emerged from behind a tower of cardboard boxes. She had a little pincushion fastened on the top of her palm and was dressed in mauve robes that fitted her loosely, a friendly smile painted on her face. The woman struck a chord in Hermione, reminding her of Mrs Potts from the Muggle animated feature she'd seen as a child, _Beauty and the Beast_.

"Hello dear! Goodness, are you a Hogwarts student? Hardly any of those enter this shop," she smiled. "I'm Brenda Baroque. How may I help you today?"

The woman's sunny disposition brightened Hermione's mood considerably. "I'm…looking for some dress robes. For the Yule Ball. Something…not so vibrant-"

She eyed a set of rayon yellow in the corner.

"-nor something too dull."

Her gaze fixed upon a plain cream-coloured gown that would even look out of place at a solemn wedding.

"I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb, basically. But-"

"But you don't want to look like the stone wall backing, yes, yes," Brenda laughed lightly. "Now come with me, I'll need to look at you in proper lighting. We must get you the right colours, first and foremost. Style isn't everything after all - it's how well you carry that style."

And so they began searching throughout the store. Brenda was extremely helpful, picking things out for Hermione to try on. Soon, the young girl's arms were laden with outfits of varying shades and the shopkeeper rushed her behind some curtains to change. Each new get-up merited a different level of praise.

"Oh you look absolutely stunning in all those," Brenda exclaimed as Hermione appeared from behind the drapes for the fifth time, clad in soft green robes. "But no, sea green just isn't quite right yet. It doesn't set apart from your skin well enough. It needs…"

The woman circled Hermione slowly, tapping her chin and muttering to herself. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. "I've got the perfect thing!"

Brenda hurried off to the very back of the store, excitedly chattering to herself as she dug through racks upon racks of clothes. Hermione tugged the robes she was wearing uncomfortably. It wasn't as though she didn't like the friendly, motherly shopkeeper; it was just her level of excitement that seemed a bit scary to Hermione, who had never found thrill in purchasing apparel before. Also, there was the fact that it was taking longer than usual to find the "perfect robes" for her. What if there _were_ no "perfect" ones? What if all this effort was in vain in the end? So far, besides the sea green ones, she'd tried on fandango ones, cyan ones, indigo ones and cerise ones. They seemed every colour of the rainbow to her, and if they didn't find a suitable set soon…

"I've got it!" Brenda suddenly exclaimed, pulling out a periwinkle blue ensemble from one of the boxes. "These aren't the _latest_ fashion, but they're a classic design. You'll still be able to wear it without receiving funny looks, that's for sure. Here, try it on!"

Hermione wasn't quite sure how the blue would look on her skin, but took the robes anyway. She was never a person who could pull off too much blue, so she was still sceptical. Then again, periwinkle was a very subtle colour. She might be able to get away with it…

And she did. She pulled it off. The robes fitted her perfectly without any alteration needed and Brenda practically gave her applause when she saw how good it looked. However, Hermione barely heard her. She was in a world of her own as her fingers traced the design on the robes; it seemed as though every fold and crease that curved around her body was due for inspection.

For the first time in all of her fifteen years of existence, she felt that this was evidence that she'd grown out of being a little girl. She never liked looking at her body – even when she showered, she never looked at herself – but right then, gazing in the mirror, with such a beautiful, intricate ensemble on her that hugged her at just the right places and flared out in others, she felt alien; as though it wasn't really her body she was looking at, but one of an older, much more mature sister's. It took her a few moments to grasp the concept that it was _her_ in the mirror and not somebody else.

"That dress was made for you, dear," Brenda said softly. "The colour isn't a contrast, it complements."

"Th-th-thank you," Hermione had to keep stuttering as Brenda bustled around finding shoes to match the dress robes. She dazedly put on every pair of shoes tossed at her until she finally came upon soft majorelle blue heels. They felt like they were made for her as she slipped them on, enjoying the feel of the swishy skirt of her dress against her ankles.

Brenda was _beyond_ caring, and even offered to help Hermione with her hair if she ever had trouble. The latter continued to utter her thanks every now and then. As she paid for her purchases and left the shop, she promised to return soon enough.

"Don't mention it, dear! Just have fun at that ball!" Brenda waved merrily as Hermione turned back up towards High Street, almost skipping over the cobblestone path.

* * *

"What do you think of this one, Ced?" Cho asked as she modelled her tenth set of Gladrags dress robes in front of Cedric. It was a vivacious shade of orange that didn't remind him of much else other than the paste that was applied to his skin to treat his burns after the first task, but he perceptibly couldn't say that.

Instead, he said in a monotonous tone, "It's great."

"You've been saying that for the other nine outfits," Cho frowned, moving to settle herself next to him on the bench. "In that exact same manner. Am I boring you?"

"No…" Merlin, why couldn't he just tell her the truth? That she was the epitome of "boring" at that moment? "I'm just…I don't know. I'm always tired these days."

"You seem more worried than tired."

Trying to befuddle a Ravenclaw was as good as a first year trying to beat Albus Dumbledore in a duel. However, Cedric just shook his head and smiled lightly at Cho, silently willing her to go back to trying on dresses.

"Maybe try something not so bright next?" he attempted to change the subject again.

Thankfully, as smart and inquisitive as Cho was, she was very accepting and knew when to back off. She went back to scrounging the racks in no time.

As Cedric waited for her, his eyes wandered towards the shop window and he gazed out of it. As though it was preplanned as a horrible sort of joke, he spotted the one girl he'd been hoping he wouldn't see all day except during mealtimes. Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, her arms laden with paper bags and a ridiculous smile creasing her pale features. He hadn't seen her that happy in awhile.

Feeling a coiling sensation begin in his stomach, Cedric dragged his glance back towards the fitting area, where Cho was reappearing once again, in silky burgundy robes and pivoting on the spot for him.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, the Yule Ball was supposed to be in this chapter, but I fail because I just had to describe some of Hermione's growing-up process. So much more Yule Ball-prep than anything else. Poorly written (in my opinion) news article courtesy of me, obviously ;) As always, I try not to copy dialogue straight from the books, so I lengthened things and added others. It was good fun doing, but my favourite scene to write here has to be the "Hermione, you're a girl!" one – tactless Won-Won.

As always, I love you for your feedback, so if you feel like you have something to say, don't hesitate to leave a review! :D Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter Eleven

Hermione hummed soft tunes as she prepared herself for the Yule Ball. Christmas day had finally arrived and she felt much more excited than she'd first anticipated she'd be. Her morning had been amazing; Hermione had received so many beautiful presents from all her friends – an assortment of chocolates from Harry, an oddly charming candy bracelet from Ron, a glossy new Transfiguration read from Ginny, socks from Dobby, a little homemade flute from Hagrid, a gorgeous hand-knitted bolero from Mrs Weasley, and lovely earrings from her parents. She then spent her afternoon with Harry, Ron, Fred and George out on the white-blanketed grounds, although she mostly stayed away from their rounds of snowball fights.

Throughout the day, Ron kept bugging her, asking her who her date to the ball was, although she thoroughly evaded the question by swiftly changing the subject at hand and sometimes even ignoring him. Even as she left at five o'clock to start getting ready, he had shouted his query across the snow-covered field.

"Oi! _Who are you going with?!_" the question still rung in her ears and it tickled her; Ron was so curious about something that was clearly none of his business.

Hermione gave her wand a slight flick as she muttered an incantation from the hair care handbook she'd bought the previous week. Instantly, her hair was much sleeker and the normally unruly tresses fell over her shoulders in soft, honey-tinted curls. She had a small thought to just leave it as it was, but decided to fix it up a little more. A few wand swishes and flourishes later, her hair fixed itself into a knot at the back of her head, with delicate locks spilling from it.

"Wow," a voice whispered from the dormitory door. Hermione spun around to find Ginny standing there, half of her make-up complete.

"Is it really that hard to believe my hair can be fixed?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, it actually is," Ginny giggled, slipping herself into the room, a bulging paper bag in her hand. "Where are Parvati and Lavender?"

"No idea. What's in the bag?"

"My stuff. I decided to get ready in your room. Figured you might've needed help with your hair and make-up, but by the looks of things, you've got it all right," Ginny grinned.

"I could use some help in the make-up area, thanks," Hermione said gratefully, sitting at her vanity and carefully prodding at the bun that was her hair. It felt so unfamiliar; she was just too used to her regular mane.

"Don't touch it so much, it'll fall out of place," Ginny berated gently, settling herself next to Hermione.

"It's already held together by magic, Gin, what kind of damage would touching it do?"

As though she'd just jinxed herself, the little knot of hair came undone, although it was still salvageable, by the looks of it.

Ginny smirked. "And you were saying?"

For the next hour, the two girls worked on putting themselves together for the ball. Ginny slipped into her robes of harlequin, although she practically squealed when Hermione pulled her periwinkle ones from its own paper carrier. The latter stared at her inquisitively but made no mention of the outburst.

"Where in the name of Merlin did you get _that_?" Ginny's eyes were wide with envy.

"In a little shop off on a side street; Brenda Baroque's," Hermione replied absently. She was trying to make find the zippers to her robes and was fumbling around with it.

"And how much was it?"

"I paid twenty Galleons, why?"

"Get out of here!" Ginny exclaimed, accidentally hitting Hermione in the arm in her surprise.

"And what was that for?!"

"It's just that's a designer set. They go for _loads_; hundreds of Galleons, in fact. How on earth did you get it at just _twenty_?"

"It was a thrift store, Gin," Hermione shrugged as she changed. "There was a ton of other clothes there-"

"You _have_ to show me this shop the next time we go to Hogsmeade," Ginny declared. "I can't believe I spent so much on _my_ robes when I could've gotten an actual designer one with something like eighty percent of its original price tag cut off!"

Ginny continued rambling on and on about overpriced wardrobe as they finished getting ready. Hermione listened, a little amused, although she understood why her redheaded friend was so upset; the Weasleys' tight monetary situations made it tough for her to have luxuries.

Finally, they were both dressed and made up for the occasion. Giving her reflection one last glance in the mirror before they left the fourth-year dormitories, Hermione had to admit that she _did_ look good. Her new teeth coupled with her floaty robes, clicking heels and silky hair made for the perfect ensemble.

"It's a real shame your neck's bare, though," Ginny had commented as they descended the steps of the Gryffindor Tower. "Small diamonds or pearls would've gone nicely with the blue."

Although Hermione had to agree, she knew forking out money for something so expensive wasn't really worth it. She _did_ have on the new earrings her parents sent, though. They were milky opal ones that changed colours as they caught light from different angles.

Ginny told Hermione that she would be meeting her date – which turned out to be Neville – in the Common Room and thus, the latter made her way to the Entrance Hall on her own to meet Viktor. As she walked, she felt as though there were a million imps doing an energetic dance on her stomach, which flipped and jumped so many times she honestly thought she would be sick. The large double doors of the Great Hall soon came into view. Nobody else had arrived yet. Hermione pulled a small watch from her robe pocket for the time – it read seven o'clock. Viktor had promised to meet her at seven-thirty. What on earth was she going to do for half an hour? She didn't think her nerves could wait that long. Talking to somebody would help tremendously; however, unless a ghost or even Peeves somehow popped up before her, Hermione knew she was without company until much later.

In desperate effort to calm herself down and keep herself occupied, Hermione began to hum faint refrains to herself once more. They were mainly Muggle melodies she heard from her parents' old record collection as a young girl. Before long, she was so focused on singing softly that she was beginning to lose awareness to her surroundings; music brought her to a world of her own.

"That's very beautiful," a voice surprised her. Hermione felt she must've jumped twenty feet at the sudden presence of another beside her. For a brief moment, she had the consideration that it was Viktor. However, as she turned around to face the person, she noticed from the strong, chiselled jaw line her eyes came level with that it was in fact Cedric. The proximity was appalling and the scent of his cologne made her unexpectedly light-headed. Hermione hadn't been this close to him since the time they were at the Lake months before. She instinctively took a step backwards.

"Um, thank you…" her voice trailed off awkwardly and she began to wring her hands together in an attempt to find something else to do. She'd never sung for an audience before and needless to say, it was a bit embarrassing for her to start right then.

"Well, don't stop now. You sound good," Cedric said softly. _He_ appeared a bit tongue-tied himself. He was shuffling his feet, and his breaths were deep.

_He's just as nervous as you are!_ Hermione told herself. _Loosen up._

But she couldn't.

"I'd rather I stopped, actually," she mumbled stiffly. "I was just giving myself something to do before my date came. Or, before _anybody_ came actually."

"Ever thought of making a career with your voice? Like Celestina Warbeck?"

"Who?"

"Singing sorceress, Hermione," Cedric chuckled, although it seemed a bit limited.

Hermione huffed a bit. "I'd like to be known for something better than singing, actually."

He blew air from his nostrils in a bit of a snort. "What about a fashion icon then? Some of them are more famous than Celestina. _And_ there are perks to that. You can get free clothes from every designer if you endorsed them."

"Fashion and its counterparts were never at the top of my list of important things to do with my life, thank you very much. Why are you even spouting all that tosh about it anyway?"

"You're wearing a Dominique Duero original, my dear."

"How do _you_ know that?" Hermione eyed Cedric suspiciously.

"My mother owns a dress designed by Duero. There's a signature to her style. You could spot it a mile away, Hermione. How'd you manage to get something like that anyway? You don't seem to even know who Dominique Duero is."

"I got this at a thrift store," Hermione mumbled, tugging at the blue fabric nervously.

Cedric smiled; Hermione wasn't looking at him, but she could hear it in his tone. "Well, then that's a huge bargain. And you look exquisite, if I may be so bold as to say."

"Oh, thank you," she felt her cheeks heat up a bit at the flattery. "You, er, you look nice too."

Cedric laughed, "You sound like you're in pain saying something like that. If you don't like my suit, you can say so."

"I-it's not that," she shook her head. "I'm just horrible with compliments, I guess."

"Seems as though you are," his smile remained creased across his features, although it left his eyes. "Your date's very late, isn't he?"

"He told me he'd meet me at seven-thirty, Cedric. I just got here too early."

"Who _is_ your date?"

That was entirely too abrupt for her liking. Hermione's eyes flew to meet Cedric's in a hard stare. Was it just her imagination, or was there a sense of urgency in his tone? However, he seemed to retract from his state with a shake of his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, "that was completely unnecessary. Who you're going with is your business."

"Well, thank you for that consideration," Hermione said in relief. "Although I don't see what there is to hide at this point. I'm going with-"

"Herm-o-ninny!" Viktor's baritone voice interrupted. She spun around and came face to face with the Durmstrang champion, who was clad in almost regal robes in blood-red. "You look beautiful tonight!"

He looked pleased to see her, although when his gaze shifted to Cedric, it hardened.

"Why, th-thank you Viktor. You look great too." She felt utterly uncomfortably being in the middle of the two boys, though – they were having a horrible staring (well, _glaring_) contest that could very well end in something violent.

After a few moments, when it was decided that they wouldn't stop unless she made them, Hermione slipped her arm around Viktor's, patting it slightly with her free hand. "Come on, let's just…go. I'll see you later, Cedric."

As quickly as she could, she steered her date in the opposite direction and they stood at the far end of the vestibule.

"You are friends with Cedric Diggory?" he asked her. It wasn't projected as a bitter question, even though Hermione could sense that he was probably simply acting for her.

"Um, yes I am. We aren't close friends or anything, but…" She didn't know how else to continue, and let her sentence trail off.

"You two were having a fairly nice chat, though," Viktor said tautly. "He did not seem too pleased to see me."

"And _you_ don't look too thrilled to see _him_ either," Hermione ventured.

"It is the Trivizard Tournament, I suppose. The two of us do not mix. I am sorry but I do not like your friend, Herm-o-ninny. He is a rival to me."

"It's okay, I understand," she gave his arm a small squeeze. Still, she was wondering how much of that statement she meant. What Viktor implied was that he didn't like Harry either. She never enjoyed it when any of her friends fought, no matter what the reason.

Viktor seemed to notice her discomfort, and launched into small talk right away. The doors to the Great Hall had swung open by then. Students were milling around, most remaining at the Entrance Hall, waiting for their dates. Hermione took note of the dirty looks Viktor's fan club of girls shot her way, as well as Pansy Parkinson's envious glare. When Harry walked over with Parvati positively glued to his side, he looked more shocked than Hermione had expected he would. She shifted uneasily under his calculating – and was it hurt? – gape. Instead, she moved her eyes across the hall, only to have them meet Cedric's. He seemed to have been staring at her, and he never looked away even as they made eye contact. His gaze was void of much emotion, and even with Cho dangling from his left arm, he made no move to entertain her chatterbox tendencies; in fact, he very much disregarded her.

Eight o'clock finally came around and Professor McGonagall thundered down the stone steps, barking for the champions to line up in their pairs and to follow her into the Great Hall orderly. As they passed the multitudes of students seated at round tables, Hermione felt her face go hot as she took their whispers in. She received plenty of varied reactions. From where she was, she noticed Ginny and Neville grinning at her as she passed, and Ron and his date, Padma. The second-youngest Weasley was frowning copiously, with a merciless glower to match. Fred and George had their mouths hanging open in a grisly manner and their dates – Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet – were beaming at her as Neville and Ginny had.

At last, they reached the top table, and Hermione was silently praying she wouldn't be seated anywhere near Cedric. She still wasn't entirely comfortable around him; he made her feel funny – she didn't know if it was his wit or anything else, but she always felt uneasiness pool at the bottom of her stomach when she was around him. Besides, Viktor didn't like him and it would be hard to hold conversations.

Obviously, there was no such luck in the universe, for no sooner had Hermione picked her seat and had Viktor pulled it out for her did Cedric plopped himself in the chair directly to her right. Viktor gave him a pointed look, but said nothing; Hermione knew this was purely because she'd claimed to be acquaintances with the Hufflepuff and groaned inwardly. Glancing across the table at Harry – who was sitting next to a very pompous-looking Percy Weasley – she noticed that he was looking at her with a bizarre expression on his face. It looked like a cross between the desire to tell her off, and resignation. However, he was soon sucked into a conversation with Percy and fortunately dropped his gaze.

The food the house-elves had prepared for the banquet was as opulent as it got – there was even a new ordering method where people had to speak to their plates to send up whatever food they wanted, hot from the kitchens. Hermione paid no attention to any of this; the nerves in her body were enough to paralyse her. She just couldn't stand sitting between Cedric and Viktor; the former had begun to accidentally-on-purpose play footsie with her under the table and it was thoroughly distracting her from her conversation with the latter.

"…and ve only have four floors in our castle. Our grounds may be larger than these, but the fortress is much smaller…"

_I wish he'd stop kicking me,_ she thought irritably, trying to shoot Cedric a warning look to inform him of her displeasure, but he took no notice whatsoever. He was still engaged in his discussion with Cho on his other side. This carried on all through the remainder of dinner. By the end of the feast, Hermione was clearly livid with Cedric, who _still_ decided to play the oblivious one to what he was doing to her.

Hermione was gladder than ever to get out of her spot at the table and take Viktor's arm to open the ball with the rest of the champions. She saw Cedric throw a peek in her direction. However, she made no other note of it as the Weird Sisters horded onstage and lifted their instruments. Soon, a slow, melodious ditty lilted throughout the Great Hall and the champions began to dance. They were soon joined by the professors and gradually, the students. The opening dance ended amicably, with a round of applause initiated by Professor Dumbledore.

As the Weird Sisters continued playing, Hermione stayed on the dance floor with Viktor, and she found herself surprisingly having an amazing time dancing with him. She was stiff during the first couple of songs, but slowly relaxed. Before long, she was jumping and laughing along with everybody else – she held back on the screaming though. Viktor was possibly the sweetest date; he made sure she never fell over as she bopped, even though she was definitely tripping over her own robes, not to mention others'. After quite a bit of dancing, Hermione requested they stopped, and Viktor consented. He walked her off the floor and offered to get drinks, kissing her lightly on the top of her hand before heading towards the refreshment table.

* * *

"…and I had _no idea_ Marietta was coming with that boy from Beauxbatons, she told me Roger Davies asked her. Well, maybe he did, but she turned him down. Still, he got to go with Fleur anyway, so _he_ must be happy; did you see that dopey look in his eyes every time she opens her mouth?…"

_Will she _ever_ shut up?_ Cedric thought petulantly as he practically fell out of the dance floor after Cho, who was tugging him along, nattering about things he honestly couldn't be bothered with. She spoke a hundred miles an hour anyway, and it was hard for him to keep up.

Well, maybe he didn't _want_ to keep up with Cho and her ramblings. He _did_ know of a particular girl he'd much rather speak with; one that could speak on his level, one who could see eye-to-eye with him…

_Stop that,_ he scolded himself. _She's here with Viktor _bloody_ Krum, not you. You saw them dancing; she's having the time of her life. Don't spoil it for her._

Although Cedric had to admit, it was getting increasingly tough not to interrupt them. In fact, he'd just seen them leaving the dance floor too. It took a lot for him not to just walk right up to Viktor and give him a good, hard, nose-cracking punch.

Cho's voice continued to cut into his private thoughts as they settled themselves down near one of the refreshment tables. However a few sentences caught his attention fully.

"…but you know what the most _shocking_ thing is? _Hermione Granger coming to the ball with Viktor Krum!_ I thought she was going out with Harry. What's she playing at? Sounds as though she's toying with both boys' affection right there. Have you read all that stuff in the _Daily Prophet_ about her and Harry? Why'd she-"

"You believe that stuff in the _Prophet_?" Cedric asked a bit too harshly. "All that's bull, Cho, don't you know that? It's all just gossip."

_Since when did _you_ believe it was bull?_ He asked himself, surprised at how he'd reacted. _Since when was it all merely gossip to you?_

_Well maybe I just don't _want_ to believe in the damned articles now,_ another part of his brain argued.

Cho looked taken aback. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Honestly, what's gotten into you, Ced? For the longest time, you've been acting up on me for things that shouldn't matter to you. What've I done wrong? Now you're insulting me for reading the _Prophet_? Why? It seems to me as though every time the name 'Hermione Granger' or 'Harry Potter' pops up in our conversation, you have a go at me! Why do you care about those two so much? And will you please look at me when I'm talking to you? _Why_ are you glaring daggers at Viktor Krum's back?"

_Merlin, she suspects,_ Cedric felt his palms beginning to sweat. However, he felt too annoyed with her to seem diffident. He was in more of a mood to wind her up than anything else. He shifted his austere stare to meet her flashing one.

"Cho," he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. However, he dropped that pretence soon enough. "Stop talking. Just for a minute. Please. You talk so much that you end up speaking both sides of our conversation. Besides, you know how much I despise all this 'he said, she said'. There's _no_ solid foundation for any of it. If you want to go believe in all that tosh, that's your problem."

As he expected, she looked even more offended. She looked very ready to scream out his deficiencies as a boyfriend to the entire ball – not that he particularly cared at that point. However, she seemed too angry to speak for she plainly stood up and stomped off to where her best friend, Marietta, was standing. Both girls looked back at him icily and he could see the faintest sign of tears in Cho's eyes.

That was when Cedric began to feel a bit bad for what he'd said. His softer side was beginning to spring forth and he honestly contemplated apologising. Still, from the venomous stare Cho had thrown at him, he knew saying he was sorry was going to do very little.

Frustration boiled deep within Cedric and he decided that he just needed to get out of the Great Hall. All the cheer… the festivities… the dancing… it was like being force-fed happiness. Storming past the masses of students, he bumped shoulders with many; he didn't care about their angry retorts. That was, until he ran right into Viktor Krum, who held two open bottles of Butterbeer. One of them spilled down the entire front of the Durmstrang champion's carmine robes, deep into the fur of his coat.

"Sorry," Cedric muttered, although he didn't actually mean it. Before Viktor could knock the living daylights out of Cedric for ruining his robes, however, the Hufflepuff stalked past.

* * *

"Viktor!" Hermione exclaimed at the sight of his Butterbeer-drenched dress robes. "What in Merlin's name happened?"

"Ask your friend _Cedric_," Viktor spat out as he neared her, thrusting her drink in her hands and fussing over the state of his clothes. "These robes are not mine; Karkaroff let me borrow them for tonight. Vonce he sees these stains, he is going to vant a vord vith me and nobody comes out unharmed from a vord vith Igor Karkaroff."

"Oh goodness," Hermione fumbled with her drink bottle, putting it down on a nearby table. Thankfully, she had her wand with her and knew quite a few cleaning spells. Whether they worked on robes was another thing.

She spent a few minutes trying to salvage all she could of Cedric's handiwork, but to little avail. She silently cursed the Hufflepuff into void. According to Viktor, he didn't even sound sincere when he'd apologised.

"It is hopeless," Viktor groaned. "I should probably tell Karkaroff now and get it over vith."

"I'm going to find Diggory and give him a piece of my mind," Hermione mumbled more to herself than as a response. She looked around the Great Hall, hoping to spot Cedric's tall frame amongst the large host. She spotted Cho standing in a corner, crying into Marietta Edgecombe's shoulder and suddenly felt even more rage boil in her aimed at Cedric. _The idiot probably made his girlfriend upset and took his troubles out on Viktor!_ Hermione fumed.

However, there was still no sign of him. Catching sight of Harry and Ron sitting grumpily at the opposite end of the Hall, Hermione marched over.

"Have any of you seen Cedric?" she asked.

None of them gave an answer. Instead, they both glared at her. Unfazed, she folded her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for their explanations.

"Traitor," Ron remarked softly, but it was still audible enough for Hermione to hear. Her eyes narrowed to the size of pins.

"_Excuse me_?" she inquired severely. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You're not only fraternising with _one_ enemy, you're doing it with _two_!" Ron burst out, seemingly unable to hold in his ire any longer. "You're leaving Harry and me in the dirt!"

"Ron-… well, I-… Is that what you think-…" Hermione couldn't form coherent sentences. That was frankly the most discourteous thing she'd ever heard in her life. Deciding she could do nothing with Ron (who was still glowering), she turned her attention to Harry.

"And _you_ believe him?"

"Hermione…" Harry started. He sounded irritated, but nowhere near as hysterical as Ron had been. He stood up to be level with her. "I have to say yeah, I do. Why didn't you tell us you were going with Krum? I wasn't just annoyed at it, okay? It stung. You couldn't even tell us that one thing. You told _Ginny_! Is she the new best friend who's stuck with you through thick and thin, even during your first year?"

"Harry, what a thing to say!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes threatening to fill with tears. "And for your information, I didn't tell you because you wouldn't have believed me in the first place!"

"Says who?"

"Oh come off it, Harry! I know what you would've said. Both of you! Even if you didn't say it out loud, you'd have thought it! 'Why would world-famous Quidditch player Viktor Krum go with you? You're just Hermione Granger, the girl with the too-messy hair, no figure and the shrilly voice.' Isn't that _right_, Ron?" Hermione advanced on her redheaded friend, almost pulling him out of his seat in her fury. People nearby were starting to stare, although they tried to make it subtle. She was thankful for the loud number the Weird Sisters had decided to blast from the speakers.

Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't have said nor thought that, 'Mione, you know that. I wouldn't have had a problem with you coming with Krum if you'd just been straight about it."

"That's a likely story!-"

"And this Diggory business," Harry refused to let the matter rest despite Hermione's interruption, "is getting ridiculous. Why do you want to find him so urgently? Don't you see how bad this looks? Not only for you, mind. You don't know what people say about you, don't you?"

Hermione fought to keep her emotions at bay, although dark mascara tears had begun to fall down the plains of her face. "This Tournament is supposed to be for international relations between witches and wizards! It's for making new friends! What's wrong with that?!"

"No, it isn't!" Ron butted in. He stood up with such force that his chair shot backwards and hit a Durmstrang student behind the knees. "It's about _winning_!"

"Ron, you are such a-"

"Hermione, ignore Ron for a minute and just listen to me. Some people," Harry pressed, "think it's more than just friendship you're after. With more than one person. You show up with Viktor at the ball, go running around after Cedric, and in case you've forgotten, people still think I'm going out with you!"

"And that's _your_ bloody fault! You said we were!"

"Articles about you and I sprung out _before_ I opened my mouth, Hermione! Or is that ancient history to you?"

"You still confirmed it," Hermione wasn't going to back down. Harry opened his mouth to reproach further, but was interrupted.

"Herm-o-ninny!" Viktor's thick accent called out to her. "There you are! I have been looking everyvhere for you- are you all right? Vhat happened?"

He'd noticed the thin black streaks across her cheeks. He circled in Harry's and Ron's direction with a menacing look glinting in his optics. He only barely caught sight of Hermione running out of the Great Hall.

All three of them took off after her immediately, Harry in the lead.

"Hermione!"

"'Mione!"

"Herm-o-ninny!"

Despite their shouts for her, Hermione never stopped. At least, not until she ran into someone.

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Cedric stumbled when a flying periwinkle blue ball rammed right into him. "Hermione, don't you ever watch where you're going? We always seem to be bumping into one another – or banging into one another, depending."

He said it all in a blithe fashion, although as soon as he saw the tear stains she was desperately trying to wipe away, he got serious.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, holding both her shoulders to steady them.

"Just- just leave me alone," Hermione tried to shake from his grip before any of the other boys caught up with her and noticed, but it was too late. Soon enough, she was in the middle of four boys, all with incensed expressions.

"Oi, you!" Ron spouted first. "Get your hands off her!"

"I was under the impression she was upset and that was a gesture of comfort, Weasley," Cedric growled, refusing to let Hermione – who was still struggling – go.

"Well, at least use your damn eyes to see she doesn't want you to bloody 'comfort' her," Harry gripped Hermione's right forearm and tried to pull her out of Cedric's clutch, although it was a vain try.

Viktor was yelling something in indiscernible Bulgarian, no doubt swearing relentlessly.

It was then that Hermione realised she _didn't_ want Cedric's consolation. She still had a bone to pick with him over Viktor – among other things.

"Will you people just _SHUT UP_?!" She screamed shrilly. A few ghosts poked their heads out from the walls in disapproval of her racket. At least it got the boys' attentions; all eyes were on her instantly.

Inhaling and exhaling heavily, she felt like rounding on each of them, but didn't find enough strength in her to do so.

_*click*_

"No…" Hermione heard Harry groan as they all blinked in the blinding flash of Rita Skeeter's camera.

"That's a _brilliant_ front page shot, don't you think?" Rita asked her little photographer friend sneakily as they turned and returned to the Great Hall, cracking up all the way.

"Damn it," Viktor muttered, and went off to catch up with her. He couldn't get involved in something that scandalous, and had to sort things out with the sly reporter. Ron had followed, tugging Harry along.

"If one more story comes out, you're worse than dead, mate," he was saying.

Soon, Cedric and Hermione were the only ones left standing in the Entrance Hall, apart from a few pairs of students sneaking off to the courtyards.

Feeling exasperation and stress overwhelm her, Hermione stomped over to the large marble staircase and plopped herself onto the third step, removing her shoes in a rage. She placed her face in her palms. She wasn't crying anymore, although her breaths still came out shaky and uneven. She was surprised when Cedric sat himself next to her after a few minutes.

"I think if you're a smart one like everyone says you are," she mumbled, "you'd know I'm a reputation killer by now."

She figured he would get the point.

"You only kill the reputations of people who have them," Cedric pointed out.

"_Thanks_, that makes me feel _a lot_ better," Hermione rolled her eyes, bringing them up to meet Cedric's icy ones, which surprisingly looked warm against the candlelight of the Entrance Hall.

"You're welcome. But you know what, I hate my reputation, so I don't mind you spoiling it for me," he said softly.

"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "I don't believe you don't like being practically revered by your house."

"You misinterpret what I said," Cedric replied. "Or maybe I just wasn't clear enough. It's nice that Hufflepuff gets some glory every once in awhile, but now everyone pins their hopes and dreams on me. There's only so much I can take without feeling like I'll suffocate under all this pressure. I'd rather share the glory with some of my mates, if it's all the same to you."

"So just tell your housemates to back off."

"It's not that easy."

Hermione's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Well then… why didn't you stop putting yourself in the spotlight when you knew you could theoretically die from it?"

"I only found out when I started talking to you and realised I could actually talk to somebody like a real human being."

"…Come again?"

Cedric laughed. "What I meant was, I can talk to you and have faults, and I don't have to be self-conscious about said faults. I've been thinking a lot about what you've said to me all the times you were angry. I am a self-righteous prick sometimes, but it's not that easy to kick that part of me out the window. I've been living in it for way too long. I'm not used to being reprimanded because I hardly ever got anything wrong as a kid."

Hermione was suddenly reminded of the Cedric she thought she knew a few months ago; before all the Tournament madness had occurred and before she had become the object of many a disparagement.

"You _do_ realise that this scandal is going to affect how many girls fawn over you now," she said.

"Do you think I care that much anymore?"

"What did you say to Cho?" It was her turn to ask abrupt questions.

"Hm?"

"I saw her crying in the Great Hall earlier. Before I had my own crying fest."

"She was quoting nonsense from the _Prophet_ and I told her to shut up. She took it badly."

Hermione gaped at him. "_Anybody_ in their sane minds would have taken that badly, Cedric Diggory. I can't believe you were so rude to your girlfriend."

"She isn't my girlfriend."

"Well, she sure behaves as though she is."

"We've been spending time together, so what? We have nothing in common," Cedric grumbled.

"Then you should have told her, only said it nicely," Hermione reprimanded, although she didn't sound the least bit angry with him.

Cedric scoffed and changed the subject. "So what of all this stuff about you and Harry in those Skeeter articles? I myself don't know whether to believe it or not."

"You just called it nonsense!-"

"No I didn't," he cut in, clamping his hand over her mouth to stop her from rebutting just yet. "I said there _was_ nonsense written in the _Prophet_, but I _didn't_ say it was about you or Harry. I can't believe you have the cheek to assume it was about you."

He looked at her triumphantly for some reason. It was oddly cute.

Hermione tilted her head to the side in amusement. "And you're forgetting that Harry has been the _only_ topic worthy of the _Prophet_ for the past few weeks, Cedric. So if it makes me self-righteous to assume it was about me, I think it's worth a fair shot."

"Just can't get anything past you, can you, Granger?" Cedric poked her in the side.

"No, I can't, Diggory."

They continued their conversation from there. After a bit, they got up to stretch their legs with a walk in the courtyard, all the time chatting as though they were old friends who'd simply missed seeing each other for years.

"…It's a bit awkward to be walking out here," Hermione commented softly as the night breeze blew the skirt of her dress robes around her ankles. All around her, in the bushes, the muffled noises of other students' were distracting her terribly from the atmosphere. She knew it wouldn't be long before a teacher like Professor Snape would burst forth from the castle, deducting points as he went along for any Hogwarts student caught in a compromising position.

"It was _your_ idea," Cedric teased.

"It was until I realised what goes on behind the bushes!" Hermione protested. Although he couldn't see it, her cheeks had gone crimson.

"And yet I thought your perceptiveness kept you ahead of things," Cedric chuckled.

Much to her surprise, he reached out and took her hand in his. He could feel the way she stiffened just by that one space of contact that she was perturbed, but he made no move to retract his hand.

They continued to stroll hand-in-hand, following the path out towards the gate, Hermione relaxing bit by bit as they progressed.

"We're not supposed to be so far out," she said worriedly, glancing back in the direction of the castle.

"As long as we make it back alive, it's not a problem," Cedric whispered assuredly. "Or do you not trust me to bring you back alive and well?"

"Don't say such things, Ced," Hermione murmured, looking out into the darkness beyond the large gateway. It looked thrice as eerie as it would have in the daytime – even then, it was a tad creepy. "It's still dangerous even if we're on Hogwarts grounds."

"Then at least be glad we're not near the Forbidden Forest."

"I know… I wish I could see more out there though," she gestured beyond the threshold. "It's difficult not to feel unsafe when you're standing next to pitch-blackness. Like the abyss."

"We'll go back up then," Cedric offered, "if you don't feel secure. Besides, it's…" he checked his watch, "…ten-thirty."

"Damn, it's that late?"

"Granger, the ball ends at midnight. This is hardly 'very late'."

Hermione sulked and began to walk off. She chose not to respond to his crack at her sense of time. "Don't call me that, you remind me of Malfoy. Just stick to 'Hermione', please."

"I've only called you that twice in your lifetime, _Granger_. Now that's three times," Cedric's long strides didn't leave him in the dust, and he patted her on the head once he caught up, reminding her of the ratio of his height compared to hers.

"_Also_, I know I'm vertically challenged, even with heels," Hermione continued to pretend to brood, "but there's no reason for you to jog my memory!"

Cedric's warm laugh seemed to fill Hermione just the same way as the sweetness of Butterbeer did.

"You are one strange girl," he declared as they found themselves in the Entrance Hall once again.

_And that's why you like her so much,_ a little voice – one that had remained silent for all his life until then – in his head spoke up. It amused him to realise he didn't want to argue with that fact anymore.

"You're going back already?" Cedric asked as he noticed Hermione turn towards the marble staircase.

"I've had enough for one night," she sighed, rolling her eyes as she gazed at the double doors of the Great Hall. "What's more, I know what's waiting for me behind those doors."

"I'll walk you back."

"No, you don't have to. Go back and enjoy the-"

"You said 'no' last time," Cedric cut in. "I respected that. But, I'm not letting you say it again. I'm your escort, Miss Granger, and that's final."

"At least with the 'miss' in front of it, it sounds better," Hermione shook her head in disbelief at him as he fell into step next to her.

They were quiet for most of the journey to the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione didn't quite know how to classify that kind of stillness anymore. The air was thick, yet she hardly felt anxious. She still had the queasiness in her stomach, but she found out that she could ignore it the longer the time she spent with Cedric. She snuck oblique glances his way, noticing things she knew that she shouldn't, like the way his robes moved over the muscles beneath his skin, how the wind from earlier had messed his hair up in the best way possible, and also the peach fullness of his lips – among other things. Her eyes shot to the floor and remained there for the rest of their walk. Before long, they arrived at the portrait, where the Fat Lady was snoozing peacefully, a spilt glass of sherry at her feet.

"How are you going to get in?" Cedric inquired, amused.

"I'll-" Hermione didn't know what to say. It was an obvious answer to an obvious question. "I'll just have to wake her up somehow."

"Or get stuck out here forever."

"Cedric Diggory, your sense of time is _horrible_. And I thought mine was bad enough," she gently reprimanded. "I'll only be stuck here till morning if indeed she refuses to wake up now."

"Just humour me, will you 'Mione?"

"No."

"You're _insufferable_."

She hit him on the arm.

"What?" Cedric chuckled. "I'm using _your_ terminology here."

"Just _go_," Hermione couldn't keep the grin from her face, and she laughed out her words instead of sounding serious. "I won't get abducted while out here."

Cedric's eyes twinkled. "How can you be so sure?"

"Can you stop interrogating me?"

"Answer me first."

"No!" Hermione squealed as Cedric made a dive to tickle her. The sudden occurrence shook the Fat Lady awake.

"I'll say, kiddies," she mumbled sleepily. "Will you keep it down out there? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Sorry," Hermione apologised. "Fairy lights."

"That's more like it!" the portrait muttered, swinging open.

"You should-"

"Go, I know," Cedric coughed, still looking as though he was going to burst into laughter any moment. Only at Hermione's warning stare did he take a hint.

"One last question," he said, "then I'll go."

"Well, make it quick."

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

Hermione gave it a small thought. She had been yelled at, had had her picture taken while in a 'compromising situation' with four boys, and had been humiliated a million times over that night.

"Yes, I did," she affirmed.

"Good to know," he smiled. He leant and planted a soft, yet linger kiss on her cheek. When he straightened up, he was surprised (and secretly pleased) to see her cheeks in a shade of flaming red.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Cedric."

"Goodnight, goodnight, now is anybody _ever_ going to step into the Common Room?" The Fat Lady asked irritably from where she was pressed up against the wall. "Quit making out and go in already!"

At the sound of her orders, Hermione quickly slipped through the hole. However, as she turned back to wave one last goodbye to Cedric, the Fat Lady swung herself shut in her face.

* * *

**A/N:** Holy mackerel, this is a LONG ONE. I swear this document shall reach 7000 words (including this A/N obviously). But it was one of my favourites to write. And the thing with Ginny at the top, just in case people are asking for its relevance, just shows how close she and Hermione are, and it builds up to where Harry asks her if Ginny is Hermione's new best friend yada yada. Hm…I don't think there's much else to point out. I'm sure I made some ridiculous spelling errors up there, but I'll re-beta after I post this.

ALSO, big BIG thanks to everybody who's been reviewing! Over 100 reviews! Do you know how stoked I am? Can you feel my excitement? Well, if you can't, at least know that it's there :D You people are amazing and I love you guys. I hope you enjoy this, and happy holidays!


	12. Chapter Twelve

Hermione felt ill the week following the Yule Ball. However, despite truly feeling and looking horrible, she simply refused to lay idle in her bed and chose to attend classes, something her friends were adamantly against. She had greatly considered what they'd said to her the first day they noticed she looked a bit discoloured, but she ultimately ignored it. It was funny how her abnormal level-headedness never got the better of her when she needed it to most. She kept attributing the constant headaches, jolts of nausea and bouts of dizziness to something in the punch the night of the ball when she _knew_ it was much more than that. There were various reasons causal to Hermione's perpetual desire to hide herself to under the covers and the bulk of it all was because of it was Cedric, as well as Rita Skeeter and that dratted apparent article.

Hermione had wondered if the boys really managed to prevent the editorial from being published. It was now mid-January, and no article had appeared yet. Maybe they had pleaded with Rita and had come to an agreement. Well, that was what she would have liked to think. There was no stopping the woman. She'd printed a nasty, unfair article on Hagrid and his gigantism, and he had subsequently gone into hiding. Even then, Hagrid refused to speak to anybody and only had Fang for company in his little hut. Hermione felt bad for not being more concerned, but she too had virtually lost her appetite thinking of the horrible things Rita would write about her in the article, and it didn't help matters that practically everybody was giving her the evil eye over going to the ball with Viktor Krum in secret. Hermione was well-aware of the gossip that floated around her these days, with or without Rita Skeeter.

_I'm not surprised if they're calling me a slag of some sort,_ she thought miserably as she kept a wary eye on a group of Hufflepuff girls huddled together near the marble staircase outside the Great Hall Thursday morning. They all glanced at her with immense curiosity and…was it disgust? Hermione didn't stick around long enough to figure it out. She walked as briskly as she could into the Hall for breakfast.

"Morning, 'Mione," Harry mumbled with a small smile as he noticed her plop into a seat next to his. What was going to be a proper morning greeting turned into a barely audible grunt on Hermione's part, which caused Harry to frown slightly at her. However, he didn't comment on her lack of conversation when he noticed how green she appeared.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny asked her tentatively. "Look, I know I've asked you this every morning for the past three days, but you haven't answered me yet."

"She thinks she's too good to have a chat with us," Ron muttered bitterly, not glancing up from his plate of food. He had barely touched it. The times this Weasley chose not to feed himself were the times people knew he was upset about something.

In a flash, Ginny retrieved her Herbology textbook and slammed it on Ron's head, causing him to shout in pain.

"What the hell was that for?!" he exclaimed, rubbing the top of his head. A small, purple bump was beginning to surface.

Ginny stared at him, poker-faced, deciding to let him figure it out on his own. She then turned her attention to Hermione, spooning a small amount of food onto her friend's plate.

"Well if you don't want to say anything, just eat something, will you?" she urged. "It's scary how you've gone with nearly no food."

"I-I-I'm just not hungry," Hermione squeaked, compulsively running her fingers through her bushy hair.

"How can you not be?" Harry argued. He was intending to say a lot more than that, but not before catching a glimpse of Ginny's strict expression. He practically buried his face in his food after that.

The ethereal hooting of the post owls soon resonated throughout the Great Hall as speedy dashes of grey, white and brown circled above, showering the students with packages, letters and newspapers. Hermione felt her stomach clench as a copy of the _Prophet_ bonked her squarely on the head. Just the thing she was looking for. Picking it up from where it had landed in the tureen of oatmeal, she gingerly untied the thin rope wrapped around it and unfolded the paper. Her stomach then went from clenched to feeling like it was being put in a blender. Her face turned a sickly shade of asparagus.

**THE DAILY PROPHET**

**OH YOUNG LOVE!**

**by Rita Skeeter**

_Or in Hermione Granger's case, it isn't just for one person. Previously reported to be the long-term girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, Ms Granger has been a busy girl indeed. And a lucky one, considering who she's been linked with recently. Not only has she kept up with her first love Harry, Ms Granger has also reportedly been in a relationship with renowned Quidditch Seeker Viktor Krum, Golden Boy of Hogwarts Cedric Diggory, as well as an unnamed student at Albus Dumbledore's celebrated institution. With her contact book filled to the brim with such all-stars, it's a wonder how Ms Granger does it. Fellow Hogwarts student, Slytherin House's Pansy Parkinson, gives us some insights:_

"_It's no wonder she's with such big names with her abilities," Ms Parkinson eagerly spills the beans on her classmate, who is apparently an ace at Potions. "She's 'so ahead' of our class – in fact, her secret to success happens to be her love potions. I hear she brews up a storm in the dungeons. Out of class, it's like she barely keeps her knickers on or something."_

_Looks like Harry Potter will have to keep fanning the flames to this love if he doesn't want it to go out by Valentine's Day. Or rather, maybe he should just blow it out soon._

Harry, who had been reading over Hermione's shoulder, nearly fell out of his seat. His face flushed crimson and he put his face in his hands, feeling the embarrassment creep up his neck and ears. Ron had stolen Seamus Finnigan's newspaper and was now reading the editorial with wide eyes. Ginny refused to have a look at it. Simply watching Hermione's expressions was enough to know what it was about.

The whispering began. The staring began. The laughing began. Well, only the Slytherins laughed, and one could definitely make out the smug appearance plastered across Pansy Parkinson's pug-like features, but it was enough to make anybody want to jump off a cliff considering the level of humiliation the piece imposed. The words just wouldn't stop resounding in Hermione's head, even after she'd crumpled the newspaper up into a ball. She too held her head in her hands, too scared to look up at any of her friends.

Nobody said anything for a long time. Hermione barely moved. She feared every subtle movement of hers would trigger the insults. The jeers. The derision.

"So am I the 'unnamed student'?" Ron suddenly questioned. He sounded oddly offended.

"Well, it's not as if you've done anything to make yourself legendary or anything," Ginny snapped. "Even simple popularity is out of your reach."

That got Ron completely riled up. "So I'm _worthless_, is that it?!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, this isn't about you, Ron!" Ginny angrily stood up and gathered her books. "I'm leaving before you turn this into some ridiculous argument like you usually do."

"Now wait just a minute!" Ron had to jog to keep up with Ginny's brisk strides. That left Harry and Hermione, and a few scattered others who were gaping, waiting for something to happen.

Hermione would give _anything_ to be deprived of any 'alone time' with Harry at the moment, which explained her abrupt action to leave the Great Hall as soon as possible. Besides, she felt as though she would vomit all over the table if she didn't get to a bathroom soon. It was too sickening.

However, as she was about to head up towards the dormitories, she caught sight of Cedric. Immediately, she remembered exactly who were the players in this twisted game and spun on her heels and practically sprinted to the second storey girls' lavatory. It was a place she knew she could be alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I cut out the last two bits. The Pansy bit and the thing with Cedric, so this is SUCH a filler with no real content in it and I don't like it at all, but it's all I've got. There was more but it was left unfinished for MONTHS and I didn't want to let people wait any longer. Although honestly, reading back on my work in this story, even though I love the story and how it's unfolded, my writing style has changed yet again. It's no wonder I found it difficult to edit the chapter while trying to stay in the same mentality I was last November or so when I first started writing this story.

And...I don't know when I'll be able to update again. My flame for Potter has somewhat dissipated (IT'S STILL THERE, JUST NOT AS MUCH!), and I've been having an affair with King Kong. But seriously, I haven't written anything fanfic-y for at least three months. I don't know how to start up again, honestly =/


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_There she goes,_ Cedric thought as Hermione bolted at the sight of him. He didn't look it, but he was entirely aware of how the sequence of events played out. That atrocious article had finally been published. Rita was doing a wonderful job, getting people's hopes up before delivering her final blow, paralysing everyone who dared cross her. Alfie had pushed the ludicrous editorial in his face, demanding explanations. None of his other roommates would speak to him regarding it, perhaps thinking him a traitor for getting himself mixed up with a friend of Harry Potter's, his supposed contender. It was truly abominable, but then again, no one should expect any less. At that point, Cedric realised that any hope he had of keeping his run-in with Skeeter a secret was actually futile to begin with; he should have known from the start that no matter how hard Ron, or Harry, or Krum had pleaded, she would have done the deed either way.

However, one couldn't help but ask themselves why Hermione? As far as Cedric knew, she was one of the sweetest – albeit a bit hard-headed and bossy – girls he had ever come to know. As much as the girls of his own house were simply nice, Hermione was tremendously so. She just had problems expressing it. If one had to pinpoint a particular trigger to their odd relationship – if one could even call it that – it had to be the commonalities they had as people. So they were in different houses and even diverse social circles. By right, they should have been polar opposites judging by the company they kept. Yet, they shared so many things at the same time. Well, at least, that was what Cedric felt. Although, he wasn't totally sure he was _allowed_ to feel such things. It had been such an instance as Apparating, their relationship. It was like you were sucked into the great wide unknown, and it didn't feel very comfortable at all.

The last thing she needed was to be seen with him, but Cedric changed his course from the Great Hall towards the corridor Hermione had flown through a few moments ago anyway. He had to make sure she was going to be all right and that she wouldn't do anything daft. As he did so, he noticed Harry exiting the Great Hall on his own, his bespectacled face cast towards the ground. There was a flush in his pale cheeks and anyone could guess the reason why.

"Potter!"

Cedric had said it on impulse; there was no real intention to it, other than his innate desire to ensure everybody was fine and dandy going about their business. Harry stopped in his tracks and the stiffening of his shoulders was significant. For awhile, it looked like he was contemplating ignoring Cedric, but he eventually turned around all the same.

"What, Diggory?"

His tone was naturally less than friendly. It didn't half remind Cedric of their conversation right after the first task.

"I- uh- wanted to ask-" he was a quick thinker hitherto. He struggled with his words, barely able to formulate coherent sentences in his mind.

Then it came to him. He had initially wanted to tell Harry this the night of the Yule Ball, but circumstances never allowed it. He had then let his mind trail off with other things he deemed important and had thus forgotten about it.

"It's about the golden egg."

There was hardly a change in expression across Harry's countenance, yet the distinct sign of interest crept across his features.

"What about it?" It appeared as though nothing would change his coldness though.

"Just thought you'd want to know a tip about it…" _Merlin, I sound stupid,_ Cedric thought. "Uh…"

_For God's sake, spit it out!_

"You know the Prefects' Bathroom? On the fifth floor?"

"Diggory, if you're going to waste my time-"

"I'm not, just shut up and listen. I've got places to be too," Cedric snapped as he approached Harry. "Just… take your egg to the bath, all right? Take a bath. Mull things over in the hot water. It'll help. Fourth door to the left of Boris the Bewildered's statue. Password's _Pine-fresh_. Go around nine o'clock, the Prefects would've been done by then."

There was a long pause as Harry stared at Cedric before asking in a small voice, "Why tell me this?"

"For the dragons," was Cedric's simple reply as he spun on his heel and stalked off down the corridor.

* * *

Finding Hermione wasn't too difficult. Cedric had passed Pansy Parkinson and her posse in the hallway and they were all too happy to reveal Hermione's location to him. They were, after all, still bragging about giving their two cents to Skeeter in her piece and were lapping up as many chances as they could get to humiliate their opponents.

"Off to find your little tramp, are we?" they had cackled. "Try Moaning Myrtle's bathroom! She could use a good bit of cheering up!"

There was no covering their sleek innuendo as they chortled to themselves while heading towards the Great Hall. Cedric had tried all his life to be a gentleman, but he was having an immensely hard time constraining himself. He would have hit every one of those girls in a heartbeat if he was anything less than what he was brought up to be. Even so, he conceded that they weren't imperative at that instant, and therefore hastily made his way to the second-floor bathroom.

The offence of being caught inside a girls' lavatory – haunted or not – resulted in heavy penalty. Cedric would be lucky to get off on suspension. Still, he hovered around outside for a moment and when he was completely sure the coast was clear, he silently slipped into the bathroom.

It was a terrible sight to behold on first glance. The intricate ceramic carvings that decorated the tile walls were in desperate need of cleaning, and the matching tiled floor had black mould noticeably outlining each big cream-coloured block. The floor itself was flooded with water, and it sounded as though several taps were running at the same time. The sounds of rushing water did nothing to drown out Moaning Myrtle's incessant, terrifying wails resounding and echoing off the walls as she travelled through the U-bend. Hermione's sobs were not quite soft enough to be muffled either. Cedric slowly followed the sounds of her short, choked whimpers until he stopped at one of the few lavatory stalls which had a working lock.

Before he had a chance to knock, however, Hermione must have caught sight of his shadow beneath the door because her bawls and hiccoughs diminished into something else that sounded restrained. She was trying to stop herself from crying. Cedric could hear her snivelling still, and when he heard nothing more for awhile, he raised a closed fist and gently rapped on the scrubbed wooden door with his knuckles.

"Hermione?" he ventured faintly, hoping to sound tender. The last thing he needed was to scare the girl.

"Go away."

The manner in which Hermione spoke seemed like a million secateurs had sliced into Cedric's very being. Despite having only known her for a considerably short period of time, he had thought he'd seen her at her worst before. How very wrong he was. Her intonation was helpless; hopeless; desolate.

"Hermione, why don't you come out from there?" Cedric tried again. "You- you're already late for your first class-"

"What part of 'go away' don't you bloody understand?" Hermione posed the question as such that she did not have to yell for it to take effect. "I don't _care_ about class at the moment, all right? Just leave me alone."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know for certain you're okay."

Cedric shuffled his feet as he waited for her response and when he once again received none, he said, "Fine. Have it your way. I suppose I'm just going to have to sit out here and wait till you come around."

Within the confines of the restroom stall, Hermione noticed Cedric's silhouette shift as he sat on the floor directly outside. He certainly looked the picture of a guard dog.

_He can't be serious,_ she supposed. _He's not going to miss lessons for me._

She could not be more wrong. For the next half an hour that Hermione remained silent, Cedric did not show any indication he would relinquish his post outside. He did ridiculously irritating things to entertain himself as well – he whistled, tapped his feet and talked to himself among other things. It was enough to make her go insane. She was supposed to be wallowing in her own misery, so what on earth was he doing there, annoying her of all things?

Finally, she decided she had had enough and angrily opened the stall door to glare at him. Cedric's expression twisted into a concerned frown when he saw how puffy and bloodshot Hermione's eyes were. It definitely made her glare so much less terrifying than it would normally be. Her words were sharp as ever, though.

"Will you just _leave_?!" she almost shrieked. "I will _not_ have you missing class just to sit around twiddling your thumbs or whatever it is you're doing out here! You have better things to do! Don't you get that I don't _want_ nor _need_ your company? Just _go_."

"On the contrary," Cedric replied as he stood to his full height, towering over Hermione in a gesture that told her know her place. "The last thing you need is to be left alone to your devices, because it's not going to solve your problems. All you're doing is sloshing about in self-pity, and I will not have that in you, Hermione Granger. You're stronger than that."

"How would you know what I am or am not?" Hermione questioned frigidly. "What if I choose to live in self-pity? I could very well be that egocentric."

"You've never shown any evidence of selfishness, so don't you start now," Cedric warned as he stepped closer, blocking her passage out of the stall entirely, cornering her. "You're not the type for decadence – I'm willing to bet you hate it. You need to talk about your troubles, Hermione, or they're just going to eat you up. I don't care if you're a Gryffindor and if you're supposed to be brave. I, in fact, feel you're not being the least bit courageous bottling your thoughts up to yourself because you're never going to face them ever if you don't lay it out. You just seem arrogant to the people who are trying to help you when you appear like you're unfazed when in the end, you simply curl up in a corner and cry to yourself."

Hermione made no effort to counter Cedric's accusations, and he knew what he said had to have hurt. He didn't mean to make it sound as awful as it did, but it was the truth. Weren't Hufflepuffs renowned for their honesty? They were quiet for several minutes.

"Look, I wouldn't be here if I didn't give a damn, okay? You had me worried, and that's why I followed," Cedric whispered as he tentatively reached out a hand and brushed several strands of curly chocolate-brown hair from Hermione's countenance. He cupped her face in his hands, encouraging her to fully look at him. However, her eyes refused to raise themselves from the ground.

"Are you saying," she asked breathily, "that Harry and Ron don't care about me and that's why they choose to go to Charms class instead of come look for me?"

There was an air of offence in her speech.

"I'm not making any indictments about them," Cedric set the record straight. "Frankly, I don't know them well enough to make that judgement. I only know what _I_ want."

"Which is?"

"You not being this upset over things that shouldn't matter."

"Cedric-"

"Skeeter's a damned cow, I'll admit it," Cedric interrupted. "But the article's out and we can't change that. We can't change what other people might think of us now either. It's _their_ prerogatives. We're only in control of ourselves, and we can't let those comments change _us_, Hermione."

"It's easier said than done," she replied raucously. Her sobs were back, although they were not as intense. Cedric ran his thumbs over her cheeks, sweeping tears from rosy plains.

"At least show me you try. Show me Gryffindor fighting spirit."

For the first time since their conversation started, Hermione raised her glazed eyes to gaze at Cedric full in the face and was surprised at their closeness. It had been weeks since they had such contact and it was so comforting. The fact that he wouldn't let go of her – he continued to stroke her tear-streaked features – warmed her heart. It was affection she had never received.

As carefully as he could, Cedric transformed his soft touch into a warm hug, wrapping his arms tightly around Hermione's back as she wept into his shoulder. He planted a lingering kiss on the top of her head, running his fingers through her hair in the process. Hermione glanced up at Cedric as his palm moved to caress her cheek once more. Their noses brushed and she slowly exhaled shakily. Hermione wasn't merely scared; she was petrified of the consequences. She could not help but think of Ron, of Harry, of whether or not she was letting them down. Her chin quivered as more self-degradation filled her psyche. Cedric sensed this and the arm he still had wrapped around her tensed. This was no ordinary motion of protection either. Hermione saw it in his eyes. She wasn't the only one giving things up. Cedric had his life before and after. He had a story that was rapidly coming to an end as well and yet, he was willing to be sacrificial about it.

"Gryffindor fighting spirit."

That was all he murmured before their lips met. At first, Hermione was too shocked to react, but through Cedric's soft coaxing, she began to respond. He sucked on her lower lip for a moment before she diffidently parted her lips, letting his tongue slip between them across her teeth. Their kiss seemed to drag time itself, and it was perfect in a likely clichéd sense. For once in her life, Hermione was not thinking, nor was she _worrying_ about remaining idle in thought. She was surprising herself that she was finding it much less of a sin than she had previously reckoned.

"Well, isn't that sweet?" Myrtle's nasally vocal disrupted the brilliance of the setting when she spoke. She had popped her head out of the toilet bowl to see what was happening. "I was floating around in the S-bend, thinking about how _nice_ it was to have someone _else_ upset for a change, when I heard the crying stop. Now I come up and find this! Oooh, wait till the rest of the school finds out-"

Without breaking rhythm, Cedric reached a foot over to the toilet seat propped up against the water tank and slammed it over Myrtle's head, causing her to screech shrilly as she went back down the drain.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally, I wrote something I really really liked for this story! I'm sorry to keep people waiting, so I hope this chapter makes it up to people. Do give feedback; I thrive off it! Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

"It'd do you some good putting Moody and Snape from your mind right now, Harry. You've _got_ to focus on the second task," Hermione reprimanded, as she absently flipped through the ancient pages of every single reference book in the library. It was quite surprising that the library still had tomes left for her to thumb through. It seemed quite impossible that Hermione hadn't gone through the annals and swallowed it all up several times over.

"Hermione, it's important! I've already told you I worked out the egg anyway!" Harry protested, nearly ripping out a sheet from a particularly tatty leather-bound volume in his frustration at her lack of interest. "Do you know what Moody's implying about Snape? He's a-"

"I know very well what he _means_, but Dumbledore has his reasons to trust Snape, doesn't he?" Hermione hissed, fighting to keep her own aggravation from ringing all through the library. It was quite clear that Madam Pince was once again prowling between the lofty shelves, yearning to catch students for talking in her domain. "Besides, as I've said, they're the least of our problems."

When Harry had come running to Hermione with news that he had figured out how to listen to the message of the egg without it blasting his eardrums to smithereens, she had seemingly forgotten all her problems regarding that horrifying news report about her supposed love life. 'Seemingly' anyway. Once in awhile, Harry still caught sight of her staring off into space, her fingers losing grip of whatever she was holding, and her eyes welling up unmistakably. She always seemed to have a cover-up for all such incidents, however, and he didn't press the subject. Somehow – and it wasn't because he wanted to appear a bad friend – he did not really want to hear about her and Cedric, nor her and Krum, nor did he want to have a conversation about whether Hermione and himself was anything more than best friends. The article spawned plenty of assumptions from plenty of onlookers, and he had dealt enough of such cards. Any chance there was to talk about something other than the editorial was a chance worth taking. To say bringing the article up was aggravating and almost insulting was a tremendous understatement. Sometimes, ignorance _was_ bliss.

It wasn't entirely unawareness though. Harry was simply glad Hermione wasn't avoiding him. In fact, after her little escape to the girls' bathroom the minute the article was released, she did seem a bit happier about something. It wasn't much, although it was _distinct_. He had refrained from enquiring about it due to her shaky temperament – how she was most likely to burst into tears and come up a few minutes later looking perfectly okay – however he did have some suspicions. The day Diggory had told Harry about the solution to the Triwizard clue – albeit being quite unhelpfully mysterious about it – he had dashed off in the direction where Hermione had ducked for cover. No doubt it was the Hufflepuff who'd lifted her spirits somehow, but Harry _really_ didn't want to know the details. At least, not when there were more pressing matters at hand.

Even worse affairs were personified by Ron's ghastly behaviour towards not just Hermione, but Harry as well. He had completely stopped speaking to either party and Ginny was always ruffled whenever she ran into both of them. She was desperately hoping and praying that they would make up soon because it was as though she was taking over Pigwidgeon's post as the Weasley messenger owl.

Harry was purely upset that he was once again not on speaking terms with someone who was supposedly his best friend. He now had no one who would be tenuously interested in his findings about the Potions master. Hermione was more concerned – panicky even – about the second task. She was too preoccupied to pay attention to much else.

"Oh, it's no use!" Hermione cried out in exasperation after several moments of silence.

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pince exclaimed, looking scandalised. "Voice!"

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Hermione muttered as the vulture-like woman passed. "Harry, I can't find anything in here. Our best bet's a charm, but then again, all these listed here are so complicated. We have to be at least O.W.L. students to be able to do them, I'll expect. What's more, to _master them overnight_-"

"Hermione, when you're done making me feel sick in my stomach about tomorrow, you'll let me know, won't you?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Don't give me that, Harry; I'm trying to help you."

"I-" Harry started, but thought better of it. "I know, 'Mione, I'm sorry. I'm all rattled about it too. It's just-"

"So stop thinking about Crouch or Moody or whoever else! We have to get this right," Hermione sighed as she slammed a fat hardback down on the polished wooden table in irritation. "And I don't understand who'd want create, let alone _perform_, charms on their nose hair. Unethical, to say the least."

"Oh, I dunno about that," Fred Weasley's cheeky tone cut in. "Might be kind of cool, don't you think George?"

"Certainly would hold my attention, Fred," his twin piped up from behind a shelf.

"What do you two want?" Hermione asked icily. "If you don't mind, we're trying to work here."

"Don't bite our heads off, Hermione. We're just here with a message," Fred said as he pretended to look offended.

"Yeah, McGonagall wants to see you. She doesn't look at all pleased."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted into a deep frown. "What could she possibly want with me at this time?"

"Dunno, and it's not our business either. Have you seen Ron? Or is he _still_ avoiding you two?"

"He's still avoiding us," Harry spoke up.

"Childish prat," George complained. "Now we'll have to scout him out, I expect. Anyway, Hermione, go on. McGonagall's in her office."

* * *

"Bubble-Head's a good choice, but he won't be able to do it tomorrow, we haven't even learnt it in class… Partial Transfiguration's even worse…"

Hermione's solitary mutters replied themselves as they echoed off the high ceilings of the vast corridor. If she wasn't so distant and worried about Harry, she would have paid more attention to where she was actually heading. As she passed through corridor after corridor, she went off into a hallway she did not recognise. Her soft footsteps were augmented as they ricocheted off the stone floor and the entire vestibule fell into utter silence as she stopped to get her bearings.

"Oh _brilliant_," she grumbled to herself. "Getting yourself lost… Good girl, Hermione-"

"What are _you_ doing here? The _Ravenclaw_ common room is this way. Gryffindors go up a _separate_ staircase."

There was no mistaking the misgiving notion in the questioner's voice. Hermione spun on her heel and came face to face with Cho Chang, whose adamantine bistre brown eyes glared daggers at Hermione's softer hazel ones. However, overall, Cho had a rather lacklustre look about her face – all her other features remained wooden apart from her eyes.

"Well?" she spat.

"I got lost," Hermione replied with an air in her accent that clearly asked, 'Isn't it obvious?'

"Oh, a likely story," Cho scoffed. "_Where_ were you headed to exactly?"

"That's none of your business," Hermione responded coldly, a defiant stare dimming the sparkle in her hazel browns.

"I suppose you're right on that count then," Cho conceded forcefully, although there was something else bubbling up that she seemed extremely eager to articulate but was holding herself back.

"If you have something to say, say it now," Hermione snapped. "And say it quickly too. I actually have somewhere to be."

"Fine, then. I _never_ disliked you, Hermione," Cho started. Hermione's fist clenched at her sugary-sweet tone that coated her slick nuances, however. "But…"

"Just get to the point, Cho."

There was little sense in being polite at this position. Cho's dark brown eyes turned pure black as they flashed with fury.

"We've been going out for months," she said in an angry undertone. "Then _you_ came along and ruined _everything_. He can't stand being the same room with me anymore. All he ever talks about is you. It's like he's trying to say I don't live up to any expectations he has. Funny, because before he started spending copious amounts of time with you, nothing was wrong."

"I didn't do anything to him, if that's what you mean," Hermione retorted with as much animosity. "What, you expect that I've hoodwinked him somehow? I don't appreciate that accusation, just so you know."

"People talk about you, Hermione," Cho warned. "We all know how good you are at spells and things like that. Jinxes. Hexes. All sorts. You could have easily done it."

Hermione's expression turned into a maligned one. Her rebuttal was stuck somewhere in the confines of her throat. It felt very much like a great big gobstopper had lodged itself between the walls of her neck, and it was extremely hard to down. That indictment… it could not be the only one. Besides Pansy Parkinson's supposition towards Hermione's hypothetical Potion-making prowess in brewing up immensely potent love potions, surely people thought like Cho did too – that Hermione had simply put a charm on every boy she was allegedly in a relationship with. That she was like a gypsy of sorts, putting spells on men and flouncing off with them whenever she pleased.

"You've got other people fawning at your feet, so don't come along and swipe Cedric from under my nose like he's your property," Cho continued simply.

"So you're saying he's yours like a _trophy_ or something?" Hermione wrangled. She couldn't believe her ears.

"I'm just saying it's unfair of you when you've got the likes of a world-class Quidditch player _and_ the Boy Who Lived on your side."

As much as she did not want to admit it, a part of Hermione probably would have agreed with Cho. The side she had always pushed to the forefront, the part that constantly told her it was easier to get by in life by satisfying others rather than looking after her own integrity. However, it was not the case this time. This time, Hermione was so sure of the circumstances. Oddly enough, that was quite a rare occurrence for her. Outside of academics, it was difficult to find a field for her to excel in – hard for her to completely succeed in a conquest. At least, by her terms.

_It's so easy to say she's right. That I'm some thief or slag or whatever,_ Hermione thought. _But it's all out of my control. And _I_ know what I am and am not. Who's _she_ to decide?_

"It's Cedric's choice who he wants to spend his time with," she resolutely replied. "You should be talking to _him_ about this."

"And there lies the problem. He won't speak to me. Apparently, I'm no match for the likes of the _great_ Hermione Granger. I'm not good enough," Cho was close to tears at this point. There was hardly any light in the corridor, but some of the beads of flickering candle flame managed to highlight Cho's taupe-coloured eyes. They were glistening and threatening to overflow.

Neither girl could stand there a minute longer continuing their staring contest. Hermione vaguely wondered whether Professor McGonagall had sent another escort for her, but more than anything, she longed to get away from Cho. She did not want to be a spokesperson for anybody, and she loathed how Cho seemed to want to force an answer out of her no matter the consequence. Hermione actually surprised herself by not letting the Ravenclaw's words thwart her outwardly. Despite that fact though, she was completely in shreds on the inside. There was nothing like hearing exactly what the opposition pitched, word for word. Hermione never wanted to be the poster-child for the victims of vindictive claims, and yet here she was.

Spinning on her heel, Hermione wheeled to the direction she came from, deciding exactly who was worth her time at the moment.

* * *

"_Where_ is Harry?" Ludo Bagman grunted rather uncharacteristically as he paced back and forth, the soles of his dragon-hide loafers resounding on the wood of the pier. He pulled out a pocket watch and checked it for the time – something he had been doing a lot of for the past hour.

"Calm down, Ludo, he'll be here," Professor Dumbledore reassured, reaching out to pat Bagman on the back.

"But the task starts in fifteen minutes!" Bagman cried out lividly.

"Really, Ludo, I don't think I've ever seen you this ruffled," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Don't worry about it. _He'll be here._ Now, would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

"No, I do _not_ care for a sherbet lemon! Harry Potter _needs_ to be here and we have no idea where he's gone off to!-"

Bagman's incensed shouts did nothing to ease the Triwizard Champions' nerves. As he stomped back and forth in his rage, it was clear that everybody else had other things on their minds than to bother about his eccentricities. Fleur was tugging disconcertedly at a long lock of silvery-blonde hair with one hand as she nibbled on her finely-manicured fingernails of the other. It was thought impossible, but Krum's surly expression had set in deeper. He didn't look like he had gotten a good amount of sleep the night before. Neither did Cedric, as a matter of fact. The dark rings under his eyes were a grand testament to that statement. He had spent the previous night revising the Bubble-Head Charm, and he thought he got it all right… all his efforts notwithstanding, there could be other dangers to tackle within the depths of the Black Lake…

"Finally! He's arrived!" Bagman's excited bellows reached the Champions' ears. "_Sonorus_," he muttered, placing his wand tip on his throat.

"The Champions are all present. They have exactly an hour to carry out their task in the Black Lake. At the sound of my whistle, on the count of three. One… two… three!"

The water in the Lake seemed cold enough to freeze blood vessels solid the moment one took a step in. None of the Champions were very prepared for it; neither did they have enough time to dwell on that fact either.

Cedric's Bubble-Head Charm worked perfectly, and as a huge translucent bubble encased his face, he began to swim. He sorely wished he could have done something – _anything_ – about the sub-zero temperatures of the Lake because it made his limbs lock up unexpectedly, interrupting his swimming. He was fair at it, and could very well tread water, but to navigate through the murk of the Lake was a tougher challenge than anything he could have expected. He could not see further than ten feet in front of him _at all_. Once in awhile, it felt as though he saw something move to his left or right – a little twitch of seaweed here, a jerk of whatever was hiding behind the great leafy columns. It made Cedric feel powerless. He was supposed to be searching for something precious to him, and nothing was in his favour if he could not even see where he was going, let alone save someone.

His arms and legs felt flaccid in the undercurrent and it felt as though his insides were congealing with the cold. His senses were benumbed and there was no way for him to clear his vision. He was never superb at non-verbal spells and his verbal ones ended up a mess of bubble escaping his mouth. He sliced through the water like a knife through blankets of silk as he forced his freezing appendages to work.

Along the way Cedric had a rather undesirably long encounter with three Grindylows, but he managed fight them off despite his waterlogged wand work. At last, his vision stopped consisting of just streamers of seaweed and grimy gloom. His eyes were witnesses to an underwater city. Merpeople floated above, below and all around him as he caught sight of exactly what the treasure was. There they lay, motionless – as though asleep. Hermione, Cho, a little girl of no older than eight, and Ron Weasley were tied up against a gargantuan statue of a merperson of sorts.

Harry was already there, although it seemed to Cedric like he was trying to save all four captives at once. He could hear Harry through the waves, trying to bargain with the merpeople.

_What in Merlin's _name_ is he _thinking_?_ Cedric thought. _Time's running out!_

Swimming up to the gigantic effigy of algae-coated rock, it was very clear whose 'treasure' was for whom. Extracting a tiny pocket knife from his shorts, Cedric made his way to the hostages. He tried to gesture to Harry that his friends were safe, but the younger Gryffindor seemed unable to distinguish what Cedric was trying to say. Giving up his attempts, he spotted the thick, slimy seaweed binding the hostages to the rock, and he grew hesitant. Cho was undoubtedly deemed 'his' hostage, by right… and yet, there Hermione was. Both looked sound asleep, heads lolling from side to side and streams of tiny bubbles issuing from their mouths held slightly agape.

He was running out of time. Surely, they'd _all_ be safe, even if he rescued just one girl… Dumbledore _wouldn't_ allow them to die down here…

He made up his mind in a flash. The blade of his knife found the weeds connecting Hermione to the crude sculpture. The razor made quick work of it, cutting her loose in an instant, and its sharp edge sliced his palm in the process. Strings of red oozing from the wound stained the greenish-tinted water, but there was, again, no time to fix it. Seizing Hermione around the waist, he used as much energy he had to kick himself up towards the surface of the Lake. He was sure he did not imagine the look of sheer shock playing across Harry's gill-wrought features.

* * *

**A/N:** That was actually quite unexpected. I started this chapter not knowing how it would turn out, but I think I like it :) Do review if you can! Thanks to everybody who's reviewed thus far, getting the count over 200! :D It really really really makes my day, and it's a milestone for me. I love you all :)


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"_Miss Fleur Delacour, in spite of her use of the Bubble-Head Charm to great effect, was attacked by Grindylows in the midst of searching for her prize. The judges have decided to award her twenty-five points._

"_Mister Cedric Diggory also showed brilliant application of the Bubble-Head Charm, and was the first Champion to return with a hostage. However, as we have allotted names for each Champion to collect, he has in fact returned with the wrong one. He also returned three minutes over the apportioned one hour time limit. The judges therefore see it fit to award him thirty-two points._

"_Mister Viktor Krum, with his appropriate and successful use of partial Transfiguration, was the second to return with a hostage. Once again, the hostage is not one assigned to Mister Krum to rescue, however, it has come to our knowledge that it is only because of Mister Diggory's efforts that roles have been reversed. Hence as it has left Mister Krum with little choice but to rescue a captive from the lake and he did so promptly, we award him forty points._

"_And finally, Mister Harry Potter put Gillyweed to good use. However, he returned last – well over the time limit of an hour, even. All the same, the Merchieftainess has informed us that Mister Potter was, in actuality, the first person to reach all the hostages. It was his concern that all of them remained unharmed and were rescued that kept him underwater. He was looking out for his fellow schoolmates' safety – not merely his own. Most of the judges present feel that this displays a wonderful sense of moral fibre and merits full marks. Nevertheless, as there was still much debate on that count, we have decided to award Mister Potter forty-five points."_

* * *

Cedric had requested Madam Pomfrey not make a spectacle of him when he staggered into her hospital wing with his palm sliced open. He hadn't yet managed to stop the bleeding. After she had settled him into a bed in the farthest, darkest corner of the wing per his request, the hospital matron had fussed over the state of his wound, grumbling about the seemingly uncaring stance the Ministry of Magic held towards student welfare and busily concocting a blood-replenishing potion for him. She was quick in her work, and had Cedric's hand patched up in a snap. However, she had told him to remain in the wing for at least one night for he had lost too much blood. Cedric couldn't really remember the reason for it – something about a vital artery – and it hardly surprised him that he did not truly care. His brain was weighed down enough as it was.

Soon, he had to face up to the fact that he had actually saved the 'wrong' person – in Triwizard standards of course. However, he also knew that he'd shocked plenty of people when he burst from the glassy lake with a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor in his arms whilst spurting fountains of blood. As he watched the fingers of his injured hand vellicate helplessly, Cedric vaguely wondered exactly what kind of an uproar he caused with the students, and even the judges. He hardly bothered with his 'school status' anymore, but he knew he had plenty of explaining to do whenever his friends confronted him, and Harry Potter's gang… well, he did not want to think of it just then. His head was beginning to throb mercilessly and it felt very loosely hinged to his neck. The rich stone hospital wing pillars around him seemed to dissolve like sugar in water.

* * *

"You think _I_ instigated this?"

"You know I do! What did I tell you about staying away from him?!"

"I couldn't have possibly done anything in that Lake to make him feel like he should have saved me over you!"

"Does it look like I care about your methods of seduction?"

"Seduc- _what_?! You know what? I'm _not_ having this conversation with you. I've already told you. Go talk to _him_ if you want answers."

Hermione swivelled on the spot and stormed out into the cool night air moments before she let the first hint of tears even shimmer in her eyes.

* * *

She stumbled over rock and twig carelessly, not really knowing where she was heading. Dried leaves crunched and crinkled beneath her feet, and the grass and shrubs that went up to her knees scratched her through her soaked jeans. She did not even have a chance to go up to the Gryffindor Tower for a change of clothes. She did not want to contend it all just yet. The questions, even more accusations perhaps, the angry ex-girlfriend who was probably still patrolling the area outside the Gryffindor Common Room at that moment… They couldn't give her a break at all. Right then, she did not want to feel a thing. She could barely see three feet in front of her for her vision was obscured by the irrational amount of tears in her eyes.

Hermione did not fully understand why she was crying because it was a kaleidoscopic array of emotions coming into play. Confusion and total aggravation were only small pieces of the puzzle she had not managed to figure out right then. She felt mystified by the day's events. _Why had he done it?_ she found herself asking. Didn't he see the effect this was having on not only himself, but her too?

She was rapidly losing her balance in her tiredness from bawling and she threw herself against the nearest bark, gasping for breath as she choked incomprehensible mutters to the shadows that befell her. She was honestly simply trying to make sense of her very bizarre and wretched day. She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her robes and realised that she was there at _the_ spot. _The_ tree. _Their_ spot. _Their_ tree.

It was a real wonder how she recognised it so quickly. Hermione slumped to the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. For a fleeting moment, she prayed that none of it had ever happened. Maybe she even hoped she wasn't a witch and at Hogwarts. Anything for another life would be a perfect reverie indeed.

The night air was quite still hence when soft, rustling footsteps could be heard in the distance, she tensed up. _A moment of peace,_ Hermione thought despondently. _Why can't they even give me _that_?_

"Hermione?"

Her eyelids flew open. It wasn't really the last person she expected to see. Nevertheless, it was a surprise.

"How'd you find me?" she asked hoarsely.

"I heard you arguing with Cho," Harry replied. His voice crackled somewhat, like he hadn't used it for the entire night. He was shuffling his feet – a habit he had when he was extremely uncomfortable and nervous about something – and wringing his hands so much Hermione was surprised they weren't red raw at his pains.

"Can I sit?"

"Sure."

She shifted slightly on the rock she had plopped herself on and let Harry squeeze in. When he had wriggled himself as comfortably as he could, he turned his gaze to try to meet hers. However, Hermione's hair covered every inch of her face. Suspiring, he reached over a tentative hand and gently brushed back some locks and pushed them behind her ear. He was glad – and relieved – when she did not flinch.

"You don't like me wearing my Invisibility Cloak because you can't see me, so you can't expect me to like it when you hide your face like that, can you?"

He meant it fairly drolly, but when she failed to respond and remained deadpan, he decided to cut to the chase. There was no point biting his tongue about it anymore.

"Look, I'm not here about Diggory. I'm here about _you_. You've got to stop sneaking off like that. You know, we barely see you in the Common Room anymore-"

"Once you tell all those gossipers to stop whatever it is they're saying about me, maybe I'll come quietly," Hermione lashed out, more harshly than she had intended.

"You _know_ I can't do that," Harry shot back. "It's virtually impossible, they'd say it all anyway behind our backs."

"Then you can expect me to live in the Forbidden Forest for the rest of term."

"Hermione, what Diggory did was _his_ choice! You don't have to be responsible for it-"

"It doesn't mean I'm not, Harry!" Hermione practically shrieked in vexation. "Do you know what Cho is accusing me of? And it isn't just her, the whole school thinks I'm a-"

Her lower lip trembled involuntarily as she released a shaky breath in a calloused puff. Harry chose not to respond for a moment, as though he was selecting his words as circumspectly as possible. However, when his silence elongated and soon enough, only crickets and the occasional rustle of the leaves above their heads could be heard, Hermione opened her mouth to speak again.

"What does Ron think?"

"Well, it's hard to say," Harry frowned. "I had a talk with him about it, and he's not angry at you. He doesn't think all this is your fault. You guys were all bewitched down there anyway so you couldn't have known what was happening, let alone _make_ Diggory be the one to save you…"

She shouldn't have needed to state the obvious, "So he blames Cedric."

"The whole _Tower_ blames Diggory because now Ravenclaw _and_ Hufflepuff look about ready to kill us all. Oddly enough it's become like a turf war."

"I think it's always been one," Hermione replied quietly. "They've just always been on a different side."

She was no longer crying, but occasionally her eyes would water slightly at something deep in the crevices of her memory. Harry searched her features for a tell-tale sign of what it was. His attempts were futile, though.

"Hermione, what are you hiding from Ron and I?" he questioned softly. "You've been really distant this year. Honestly, it's worrying to say the least. Do you really treat us as fools to not realise something was up? We're supposed to be best friends, Hermione, and I'm not simply saying that to make you feel – I dunno – guilty or whatever. It's the truth, and we're really concerned about you."

It might have been because she was getting tired of hiding it, and yet it might also be because she knew she could find it in herself to admit it, Hermione seriously considered spewing _everything_. How it happened, when it happened, when she first realised she liked him, when she realised _he_ liked _her_, the pivotal moment in the bathroom…every little detail about her and Cedric could have come out right there and her soul would have been bared. What held her back was the simple fact that she wasn't used to being so vulnerable, even in front of Harry. Such a feeling was most probably derived from the fact that she was best friends with a hero, and she assumed it was required of her to be a strong support column. All the same, she understood that if she did not confide in Harry, she could very well lose his friendship and given the current climate – when everybody seemed against her – it wasn't worth it at all.

Hermione inhaled deeply before speaking and when she did utter a sound, her vocals were shaky and it wasn't only because of the glacial night breeze.

"It's happening," she began. "Cedric and I…are happening. Sort of. I really don't know how to say this-"

Hermione took a peek in Harry's direction for a little assurance. However the air across his features was deemed unreadable. He plainly gaped at her slightly, as though he was waiting for her to finish before he was going to say anything.

"Okay, I'm not wriggling myself out of this one, am I?" she chuckled nervously.

"Nope. Go on. What does 'sort of' mean in this context?"

"That I really have no idea! There are times I really want to rip my hair out regarding his actions!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms up in frustration. She only narrowly missed knocking Harry's glasses off his head. "His cards are never on the table and he never confirms anything. At least, until that bathroom incident. He seems _scared_ to be publicly interested in me, if you know what I mean. He acts so differently around his friends and the rest of the school than he acts when he's alone with me and he's apparently still supposed to be with Cho – as though he's never really broken up with her yet-"

"Her-Hermione, be quiet for a moment!" Harry said loudly, trying to interrupt his friend's rambling. "For one thing, you never explained to me 'that bathroom incident'. Please don't go into too much detail if it involves…you know…the two of you snogging or whatever-"

"You already know what happened so why do you bother asking?"

"Dear Merlin, so you really did-?!"

Hermione's head whipped around so she could have a proper look at Harry. He wasn't very surprised, although he didn't look entirely jolly about the corroboration she had just given him.

"Well sorry but you asked!" she stated matter-of-factly.

"Anyway, for another thing, you're not telling me things I haven't already guessed at. So for that, I'm relieved. I've caught on before anything _too_ serious happens, y'know?"

Hermione frowned slightly. "The thing is, Harry, it's starting to get that way. I don't know what'll happen next, after today's fiasco, but you haven't seen the end of Cedric and me."

"So you really like him?" Harry kind of made a face at his question, but kept that expression brief.

Hermione knew that she did not have to think about her answer at all. Any contemplation at all would be considered false. "Yes, I believe I do. You're taking this very well, Harry. Well done."

"Like I told you, I had my suspicions. It's nice to be informed now and good to know that he's not taking advantage of you or anything."

"So Ron really is okay with this…situation?"

Harry shrugged, "As okay as Ron can be I presume. You know how he is. He'll get jealous when he finds out, but he'll never truly be angry with you."

"It'll take a long time before he realises Cedric isn't a bad person."

"We all know he isn't," Harry asserted. "But he suddenly pops out of nowhere with an interest in our best friend so how do you think we'd react? Anyway, you should have a talk with him next. To clear the air and sort it all out. Tell him what you told me."

"I can't do that."

"Well…maybe not word-for-word, but at least try, okay?"

It was like a déjà vu moment was occurring despite the differences in milieu.

"_At least show me you try. Show me Gryffindor fighting spirit."_

Cedric had said it, and now Harry was unknowingly repeating it.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

**A/N:** Not a whole lot to say about this chapter except I am glad it is finished! Been in the works for months now. Hope you all like :) Do send me some feedback!


	16. Halfway Gone

Okay yes. This story has not been updated for MONTHS I'm really really sorry about that, but honestly, frankly, sincerely and truthfully,

The spark is gone. Perhaps forever or perhaps right after I publish this, it'll come right back. So the perfect solution is an indefinite hiatus.

Truth be told, I've been working on other types of stories that are not in fact updated on this account at all. I'm not deleting this account just because those stories already published here show a time in my life as a writer and deleting it means I'm ashamed of it WHICH I AM NOT. I am proud but I also know that if I want to move forward as a writer, I have to start by wiping the slate clean and reinventing myself. I still write for Harry Potter mainly, but with a different approach and crossing over with different things. If I get a chance to _rewrite_ Unintended, it would go up on that account too. I could not have asked for a better audience and better "first story" even though it's left unfinished and I thank every one of you for it! I'm incredibly sorry for not pulling through and I understand if I've lost readers/interest/etc. All completely understandable.

If you still wish to find me, I'm going under the pen name dustyroses. URL: .net/u/2294896/

Till the next time we meet again, folks.

AJarOfDirt


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